


Until The End

by YsaX64



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bittersweet, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Dark Magic, Eventual Smut, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2020-10-28 10:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20777240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YsaX64/pseuds/YsaX64
Summary: Five times Edelgard disregards Hubert's advice and one time Hubert disregards Edelgard's advice.





	1. Come What May

**Author's Note:**

> Here I go again. Look fam I can't stop writing Edelbert. It's just that.

"We should come back inside."

"Hubert, you're no fun."

Edelgard poked out her tongue at him. 

"Fine, " he huffed, "I don't want to play with you."

Edelgard was deep into the snow, her nose and ears red like a tomato. It didn't snow like that back in Enbarr. But they weren't in Enbarr.

Fhirdiad was full of that unending snow and what started as fun became like the oldest, biggest, stupidest nuisance -- Hubert had learned that word in a big old book that smelled like allergy -- he had seen. 

Edelgard didn't think the same. She was like a little kid, who couldn't keep up with the "big kids" and didn't want to play with her little siblings. 

So, Hubert had to stick with her. He was her servant like his father said. And all the servants in Enbarr and the Imperial Palace had to stick by his father, his mother or the other nobles. Still, even the servants would disappear into the kitchen or somewhere else and trade place with others, but Hubert didn't have anyone.

It was so cold, he didn't want to stay outside anymore. 

"I'm going back inside, " he huffed as Edelgard crossed her arms, "It's too cold over here."

Her eyes widened and Hubert thought that she was finally giving up, but she shook her head.

"Hubert, please."

Her nose was stuffed up, making it sound like  _ Roobet _ and it just annoyed Hubert even more. He turned away, scoffing. It was nearly dark, the snow falling from the sky as if the Goddess had decided to let fall all on top of their head.

"Come inside then. Don't be silly," he said, bundling himself inside his clothes.

He glanced over his shoulders, just to see her in the same place, eyebrows furrowed together with her brown hair almost white from the snow.

"You're no fun," she said, "We still have some more time to play."

Her voice was high and whiny, like the tippity tappity of rats scuttling in the dark. Hubert huffed one more time, before walking away.

* * *

Later that evening, Edelgard still hadn't come back. Apparently, it was a really big deal, for everyone was anxious about it. Hubert didn't think it had passed that much time, but the rest of the Hresvelg household was running about, the soldiers were clashing against each. 

Hubert started worrying too. He left her alone and she wasn't in the place she left her ( He checked as soon as the soldiers started getting notified and ended up disappointed ). Still, he managed to convince himself that everything was going to be alright.

Until his father appeared. He only appeared if there was a really big problem because, if not, Hubert barely saw him around. His father was always off to do something secretive for the Emperor, or at least that was what his mother and the servants always told him.

As soon as Marquis of Vestra ( He preferred to be referred like that instead of "dad") stepped in the hall, everyone else went silent, their eyes shifting to him. It was like he always quieted anyone with a look.

Hubert partly wanted that power but also imagined if everyone else felt just as nervous as he did whenever his father spoke up.

" Hubert," he said, across the room, going directly for him, "Why were you not with Lady Edelgard?"

Hubert cranes his neck up, staring back at green eyes, just like his own.

"Sorry," the boy said, "Lady Edelgard wanted to play in the snow."

His eyes squinted, his face tensing into a too well-known scowl.

"And why are you not with her?"

Hubert found himself shrinking down his shoulders as if trying to get swallowed by his own clothes.

"It was just too cold. She wanted to keep playing so I went back inside."

His voice sounded small, really small like a tiny dog and Hubert hated it. He thought his voice was mostly normal, but whenever his father was around, it suddenly became truly tiny.

"Manners," he growled, like one of the watchdogs outside the gates of the Imperial Palace, "You're speaking about your lady, so stop whining, boy."

Hubert nodded, but he had hardly heard the actual words. The tone his father was using meant that he had to agree, the tone of Miasma and Mire, the tone that resonated with the dark magic that whispered to him at night.

"You're Lady Edelgard's servant," Lord Vestra changed his tone to his more stern, less doglike usual lilt, "You must protect her with your life."

Hubert shifted on his feet, keeping his hands on his sides despite the natural impulse of hugging himself or putting them over his head. His father didn't like when the scion of House Vestra acted meekly. Especially not in front of the other servants, who were walking around, as if they were seeing nothing, but still sparing the Vestras nervous glances.

"Until the day that Enbarr burns down to ashes," his father did not stop talking, eyes smoldering like the green gale of Forseti, the dragon of the legends in the books. "Until there is no more air in your lungs and no more blood in your veins, no more warmth in your heart, you will stay by her side."

Hubert gulped, but his father continued.

"This is your duty, Hubert von Vestra," he said, but his voice had lost the booming quality to it, leaving but a husk of sternness and coldness, "You cannot ever forget this."

With a swish of his cape (Hubert didn't quite know why his father favored black capes so much), Marquis Vestra left, leaving Hubert alone among the servants. Not only alone but lonely, as he slumped back to his room, the room for guests in Fhirdiad, a big, bright room for someone much bigger than he was. 

It smelled of dust and velvet, like a room for proper big nobles that never quite used it. It was bright, too bright like staring into the sun, with all the white too similar to the snow outside.

Even though his father should have grounded him (Hubert had misstepped therefore he needed to be punished for his actions) he didn't explicitly say that Hubert was grounded. Still, it was more prudent (Another big word from a book smelling like dust) to stick inside the room.

He wouldn't want to find his father still furious wandering around. 

So, Hubert paced, thinking about his small lady running around in the snow and the words his father had said. He was her servant, yes, but all other servants could come and go as they pleased! Why did he have to even play in the stupid snow with her too? His father claimed to a servant to Emperor Ionius IX but he was away all the time.

Hubert didn't understand what made Lady Edelgard and him so different then. 

He plopped down on the ground, staring at his shoes with a dull ache on his heart. Now his father was mad and Edelgard was missing. And it was all his fault.

His nose started to itch and Hubert had to tell himself that he couldn't cry. He almost believed his own words, until his vision ended up blurred and his eyes started to feel tingly, this unique sensation of crying that he could never describe.

He was stuck in the middle of crying and not crying, toying with his curly hair in an attempt to focus on something else.

A lot of time must have passed in the meanwhile because soon his door opened, forcing him to scramble out of the ground.

"Father," he quickly shut his mouth, noticing his own misstep. But, if Lord Vestra noticed anything strange, he didn't say it.

"Hubert," he grunted, a little breathless, and soon the boy noticed how wet his hair was, sprinkled with droplets of white that extended to his coat and cape as well. "Lady Edelgard is back. Go back to her side, now.

Hubert straightened his back, rubbing the tears out of his own eyes in surprise.

" Where is she?" He couldn't help the happy tone in his voice.

His father didn't appear to care, the permanent dark circles in his eyes granting him the appearance of a ghost.

"She is at the infirmary," he said. "Now, rush, boy, don't just stay there."

Hubert nodded, his feet moving on its own as he stormed out to the infirmary.

* * *

His father had told him to go back to Lady Edelgard's side, but he hadn't exactly told him what to do after that.

So, Hubert sat down in the chair beside her in silence, as she ate a chicken soup the servants had made her. Edelgard was now bedbound for now, leg sprawled in a very unladylike manner in the bed.

Apparently, he had heard of the servants that she had wandered too far out of Fhirdiad and ended up breaking a leg and getting stuck in the snow. It was Lord Vestra who had tracked her down, faster than any soldier or hunter they had hired.

All because Hubert was too cold. 

The shame mixed in his stomach, as he swung his legs awkwardly (A chair made for someone much bigger than him, he thought with a grimace). Edelgard was unfazed, however, eating her soup without care for the world.

It was strange, but he had to stick by her. It was his duty, as his father had said.

Still, it was a boring duty, to sit beside her while she ate.

" Lady Edelgard?" he broke the silence, hesitant.

Her eyes snapped back to his, not a glint of bitterness lying in them.

"Hmpf?" She muttered, mouth full in a way that would surely warrant a reprimand from anyone else. Edelgard swallowed down at once, tilting her head to the side. "What is it, Hubert?"

He fidgeted with his fingers, his hair falling over his right eye, making it a curtain for her soft, way too soft voice.

"I…" he trailed off, puffing his cheeks. "I'm sorry."

He swung his legs faster, a meek attempt to still his heart. It was his fault. It was fair if she punished him.

Instead, Edelgard's eyes shifted back to her soup, making circles with her spoon.

"I'm the one who needs to say sorry, Hubert," she muttered. 

Hubert stayed silent for a moment, eyebrows furrowing. He was her  _ servant _ . His father never said sorry to servants, nor did his mother, and Emperor Ionius never said sorry to his father.

Yet Lady Edelgard was  _ different _ .

The silence dragged on, her feet moving back and forth with the restlessness of a younger child. Younger than him at least. He politely ignored that his own feet were moving back and forth above the ground as well.

"Uh, I'm sorry," she said, eyes back to him, "I should have come back when you told me to. I got mad that you left me and didn't want to go back home even when I got tired of playing. I really should have listened to you."

Hubert's eyes widened, his lips parting. 

"I…," he said, drawing out the next words, "It is alright, Lady Edelgard. I am glad you're well."

His father's words burned in his mind, like the flames of Valflame scorching the plains, like in the tales of the old books. 

_ "You're Lady Edelgard's servant." _

Her eyes glistened in the night, already almost bedtime for both of them.

_ "You must protect her with your life." _

He tapped his fingers on the chair.

_ "Until the day that Enbarr burns down to ashes." _

His eyes snapped back to her, with all the strength an eight-year-old could muster.

_ "Until there is no more air in your lungs and no more blood in your veins, no more warmth in your heart, you will stay by her side." _

He smiled for her.

_ "This is your duty, Hubert von Vestra," _

She smiled at him.

_ "You cannot ever forget this." _


	2. Dawn Of A New Resolve

"Lady Edelgard," Hubert whispered, exasperated, "You should calm down."

He said such words with a trembling voice, politely ignoring that he couldn't calm down himself. Edelgard didn't quite hear his words either.

"Calm down?" Her voice was awfully level for someone with red-rimmed eyes and a flare at every word. Her actions all seemed controlled, but it was like a hellfire scorching a forest. The infirmary room was empty, but it still couldn't contain her rage.

"There is  _ nothing  _ that can calm me down right now, Hubert," she turned around to face him, eyes of a violet shade he had never seen before, winding and unwinding down her unspoken wrath.

In a way, Hubert knew that already.

* * *

_ "You will not stop me. Turn back now," Hubert ordered, trying to make do with his boyish voice.  _

_ The voice almost didn't feel his, creaking and breaking. The wind of Morgaine Ravine made worse. It howled and spiraled and winded down, the crack on the ground an old, slow, deep thing that parted the world he lived. Not unlike the last few days. _

_ Marquis of Vestra had spearheaded the Emperor's capture and Lord Arundel had taken the Hresvelg siblings to Fhirdiad. Since then, he managed to escape and leave to go back to their side. _

_ His father's soldiers were on his stalk since his leave from Enbarr. Hubert had barely slept in the meantime, pushing his limits to the edge. Not like he cared. Not like it had mattered. They had reached him all the same, torches in hand. _

_ "Lord Hubert," the cavalier in the lead spoke first, a small badge on his chest distinguishing him from his two companions clad in iron, "We have orders from your father to take you back to Enbarr." _

_ Hubert pulled on the reins to stop his horse. He was thankful for the early riding lessons he had because he managed a dignified stop. Had he fallen, the soldiers would probably stop him before he could do anything. _

_ "Turn back now," Hubert growled. He knew he was little more than a pampered dog who had escaped its owner for them. "I will not go back." _

_ The cavalier, instead of stopping in his track, continued marching closer.  _

_ "Your father awaits you, Lord Hubert," the cavalier said. Smoothing down his voice. _

_ Like a cat that was so confident and so cruel, playing with its prey. The spark of wrath in his heart flared again. _

_ Hubert von Vestra had a duty, one that his father had failed to uphold, but he would not. _

_ The cavalier guided his horse slowly and soon his two companions did the same, trying to corner him back to the ravine.  _

_ Hubert furrowed his brows.  _

_ He had been like a husk, aimless and limbless and pointless for over a month. Plotting, planning, escaping.  _

_ If he was meant to be like the rat between the paws of the cat, then he would at least leave some bitemarks. _

* * *

She was like a cornered, wild animal, unbroken and unbent. Edelgard had come back to Enbarr but at what cost?

" _ Nothing,"  _ she whispered, repeating herself as her eyes widened, looking for something that wasn't there. 

Hubert stood half a room away from her, but he might as well have been holding a knife to her throat. She paced back and forth, the tippity tappity of her feet grating to the ears. He was now thirteen, a big boy taller, older, sharper than the little servant in too big trousers that she knew from three years prior.

Still, Edelgard von Hresvelg, the last of the bloodline that failed her, seemed much older than him, with hair as white as snow.

White like bone. Her eyes turned violet of a shade he had never seen before in any flower or any tapestry. And the searing rage that scorched her heart, soul, and body, and melted together what was left.

His eyes refused to believe in what was before him. He had grown into a murderer, fit to the ways of darkness, the dark magic that sang in his veins telling him tales of blood and guts at night.

And yet, Hubert failed to close the distance between him and his dear lady, for he witnessed something more.

Fear was not a word he ever expected to use regarding her. But it was in the tip of his tongue all the same.

Instead, what got out was a high-pitched (curse his dreaded age) whine, unfitting for a Vestra.

"Are you alright, Lady Edelgard?"

She stopped in her tracks.

* * *

_ Morgaine Ravine was hard to travel. The plateau was treacherous and easy to slip and the river that cut below was just as traitorous. That was what Hubert had read, the words verbatim echoing in his mind. _

_ A sense of dread took over him, an emotion that sparked the dark magic slumbering. _

_ "Don't get any nearer," Hubert hissed.  _

_ He raised his hand, the flares of magic taught by books and blood sparking darkly.  _

_ The cavalier flinched, his small brown eyes (Like the eyes of a cow, placid and wary and brainless) squinting under the visor. Hubert did not like it. _

_ It made him feel like a rat. A cornered, meek, tiny rat. _

_ The soldier's hesitation did not last. The horse paced onward, hooves clicking. That was the last straw for Hubert. _

_ Pressing his ankles on the horse's sides, Hubert pulled the reins. The animal darted forward. But he wasn't fleeing. Magic flared from his fingers, old and unwinding, hitting the cavalier with a surge of dark energy. _

_ The soldier got hit in the chest.  _

** _Yes._ **

_ The man fell off his horse, letting out a scream, but still alive in the safe sand that teetered too close of the abyss. The sound echoed in the canyon, stopping the other soldiers in their tracks. Surely they probably almost thought of the task as a simple voyage, didn't they? _

_ As the man fell on the ground with a dull thump, Hubert's mind got stuck, between flight or fight. He could escape or he could guarantee that they would come back licking their wounds. But the soldiers did not give him enough time to think about it. _

_ "Stop right there, boy," one of the cavaliers in the back yelled, enraged by his friend's wounds. The horses darted in Hubert's direction, now less prone to underestimate the boy. _

** _Does it matter?_ **

_ A voice murmured in the back of Hubert's mind. No, it didn't. The dark magic flickered on his fingertips. It just took one snap. _

_ Something, something deep and old and slow crawled out of his mind. Reason magic, as they called, came from the mind of someone, it came from how strong one's mindset was. Hubert's mind both terrified and entranced him. _

_ Miasma flared from his fingertips, hitting the closest of the knights with an intensity he couldn't predict, and he fell to the ground, close to the edge. But speed never was Hubert's forte, so the other cavalier drew closer, teetering dangerously close to the abyss. _

_ "You little bastard," he hissed, using words that would get him executed, had someone seen his treason. But they were alone. Alone. And no one would witness any of it. _

_ Dark magic sang and flowed within him, Hubert as an instrument, no, a catalyst to its dark bidding! His lips curled up in a smirk. A smile that didn't quite belong to him, but appeared all the same.  _

_ The Miasma now was stronger and so was the knockback. _

_ And the man's scream drew out long and long, as the spell pushed him back to the abyss and the river below. It only stopped with a dull thud and then silence reigned for a few moments. _

_ Hubert blinked slowly, as if out of a trance. And he slowly realized what had just happened. In a way, the boy hoped that the man had survived. Badly injured, surely, but there are few things a skilled enough bishop couldn't put back together. _

_ But a whisper, whiny and deep, told him what he already knew. _

_ "What did you do?" the first cavalier got up, his horse was still restless but close by. _

_ Hubert turned his head back, the light fading as they approached the twilight. _

_ What had he done? _

** _What you needed to do._ **

_ The boy blinked slowly, pulling the reins of his mare, and facing the fallen knight once again. _

_ "Go back and tell my father," the words felt increasingly bitter in his mouth, like swallowing down way too strong coffee, "That I will not come back. I have a duty to fulfill." _

_ With those words, the boy darted off, leaving the dazed knights to mourn their friend. _

* * *

Edelgard's eyes snapped back to him, but only for a moment, until her gaze darted across the room. A flight response. Looking for an escape.

There was a deep-seated betrayal in her tense posture, but regardless she answered his question.

"No, Hubert. I am not 'alright'," she muttered.

Hubert took one step closer and she took a step back. His heart was heavy on his chest, as doubt started to settle in. She was back, but what cost? The question with no answer ringed loudly in his mind.

What were all those three years for?

The boy bit the inside of his cheek, as Edelgard continued tense, like a coiled spring. He took a step more, but she didn't draw back this time.

"I am not the little girl you used to take care of anymore, Hubert," she hissed, but her words lacked the bite. That much was enough to flare a spark of hope inside his chest.

He leaned in, gently biting his lip. The infirmary room was dark, the night settling in as the twilight painted the sky shades of orange.

Just like many years before, his father had been the first to tell him that Lady Edelgard was back. Truly, that made the contrast even deeper, when Marquis of Vestra presented a skittish girl with white hair and violet eyes who looked at him as if he was death itself. 

"I know," Hubert answered. "I've grown up as well. And I missed you, Lady Edelgard."

Her eyes widened and Hubert took one more step closer. She didn't retreat. Instead, she extended her hand in between them, letting it glow with a purple light, revealing an intricate pattern.

"A crest?" He mumbled uselessly. It sure looked like it, but it couldn't be. She already  _ had  _ the Minor Crest of Seiros, there was no way she had two crests!

But then she nodded, confirming his suspicions. 

"It can't be," he muttered in disbelief, shaking his head.

But Edelgard merely huffed.

"It is true," her voice took a childish turn, reminding him of the two years between them. "That's what  _ they _ did to me."

* * *

_ Hubert sat on the chair, a chair made for someone much bigger than he was, to his dismay. Not like he needed any incentive, to feel tinier, not before his father, sitting in his office, scowling with the same ghastly look he always had. Indifferent to the fact that his firstborn had just been dragged back from Fort Merceus to Enbarr. _

_ “You have nothing to say for yourself,” his gruff voice made it sound less like a question and more like a statement. Not that Hubert cared, simply staring back at his feet.  _

_ A sigh echoed in the room. Hubert bit his bottom lip, his tiny hands slightly trembling. Hunger affected him more than anything else at the moment, but his father didn’t like when the scion of House Vestra showed weakness. The boy furrowed his brows, suddenly accosted by the thought of why should he care about what his father thinks. _

_ He was a traitor, as much as it carved a hole inside Hubert’s heart. _

_ Marquis of Vestra tapped his foot on the floor, impassible. _

_ “So you killed five of my soldiers.” If Hubert didn’t know any better, he would have said that there was almost a tone of admiration in his voice, that quickly faded like dust in the wind. “You have fled for three days, stole one of my prized horses, killed three of the soldiers, traveled up until Fort Merceus and only got captured because my knights managed to surround you.” _

_ When he talked like that, a voice hissed, deep inside Hubert’s blood. It wasn’t truly a voice, for it spoke no words that Hubert recognize, but the feeling was the same. Something akin to pride, old and sharp. Still, the boy merely bit the inside of his cheeks, keeping himself silent before his father’s imposing posture. _

_ “Do you not have anything to say?” he repeated the question, this time more inquisitive and less sharp. As if inviting him to confess his sins and then proceeding to lash out the punishment. Hubert was quiet. _

_ “Well, then I have something to say to you,” his father said. “Next time you rely on such gambit, leave no witnesses.” _

_ Hubert’s eyes snapped up, brows furrowed in confusion. But Lord Vestra gave him no time to think about it. _

_ “If you hadn’t left those two men alive in your first encounter, it would have been much harder to track you back,” he grunted, eyes glistening with some unknown emotion. “You would have had more time to escape and time was your most precious resource, which you thoughtfully wasted like a fool.” _

_ The office seemed even colder than before, with its papers smelling of dust and its armored regalia hanging on the sides. Watching. Always watching, with eyes that don’t exist but still see and observe and watch. Watching the duty of the Vestra. _

_ And right there, Hubert understood. He was no servant like any other, no. He always knew that whatever bonded him to Edelgard and his father to the Emperor wasn’t like the other servants. House Vestra works in the dark. A phrase his father had uttered before, but Hubert never quite understood the scope of it. _

_ “Next time, I won’t hesitate,” Hubert said with a voice that wasn’t his. A voice that came from the depths of his mind, that instilled in him the desire to stare back at his father’s eyes (much like his own, as many nobles had childishly pointed out).  _

_ “There won’t be a next time, boy,” his father growled back. _

_ “What makes you think that?”  _

_ Boldness flared his words, but there wasn’t much more to it besides that. His father chuckled darkly as if he had just received a challenge. Or perhaps as threatened if it had been a hissing kitten, but Hubert liked to believe it was the former.  _

_ “You still have much to learn. The ideal age to start training you properly would be a bit older, but you made clear that you are ready,” he hissed, like a snake. “If you truly believe in Lady Edelgard, then wait for her return. Until then, since you have already proven that you can do what most adults wouldn’t dare to, we will see that you are fitting to serve her when she comes back.” _

_ Hubert decided that he very much disliked the “when” in his father’s words. _

* * *

“This is the stupid reason why all of that happened to me.” Her fingers trembled slightly, her eyes full of a maelstrom of emotions he couldn’t comprehend. “The Crest of Flames.”

Her voice was like she was giving an ultimatum, but Hubert failed to see who she was judging. The intricate pattern flickered for one more moment, before fading as she withdrew her hand. 

“I will not forgive any of them. Ever,” she shook her head, as her arms came to wrap around her body.

And Hubert stayed there, feeling thoughtfully useless as tears started to form in her eyes.

“This wretched Crest,” she hissed, half hatred, half despair. “It is the reason for all of this. Those years of--”

Her voice hitched as if she couldn’t force herself to speak anymore. Without any more words, Hubert understood. 

During these three long years, he had felt without purpose. What once had been a safe haven in his mind, the duty of a Vestra, had been put out of his reach for longer than he could stand. Three years of witnessing the treatment usually given to a noble child, one without proper duties to attend, had left him in a confused state. Without aim and without purpose, but pampered in ways that felt excessive, far too much.

And the sharp contrast with the world his father had presented. The world of shadows, in which the dark magic in his blood sang its song of cruelty and the temptation of more and always more. Edelgard had been the rock in the waves of chaos that his world had turned into.

And he began questioning. 

_ Why? _

The nobles said that the reason why they were superior to others was because of their crests. And yet!

"Why?" he voiced his doubt, blinking slowly as he stared back Edelgard.

Her eyelashes fluttered, small fists curling as she trembled. It was almost possible to see the cogs in her mind turning.

"They said they wanted an Emperor with a flame fitting of reforging the world," she said, but it wasn't quite an explanation yet.

The  _ why  _ still resonated in his mind. It was such a mundane little question, but that he knew Edelgard didn't know the answer. 

He stared down at his hands, white gloves hiding the blood that tarnished underneath.

Questions and more questions spiraling, dancing, running. No answers to be found and nothing that Hubert could say would ever calm down the girl before him. Not even blood that he had spilled for her, for the sake of the training fitting for a Vestra.

And the  _ who _ lingered in the tip of his tongue, but he didn't quite voice it. Instead, Edelgard shook her head, averting her gaze. Her hands had stopped trembling, her shoulders tense but straightened. 

"I'm the last Hresvelg now," she said, voice hollow. "I suppose this means I am to be Emperor, just like they wanted."

He remembered how Edelgard thought she was never going to sit on the throne when they were both younger. Naive. 

Hubert started questioning when he left his years of childlike innocence behind.

"Hubert," Edelgard said, her eyes staring back at him, "I will be Emperor one day."

The boy wasn't certain if the words were directed to him or if she was trying to convince himself but politely nodded anyway.

"I.." she trailed off, but soon her fists curled, eyes glistening with a new resolve, "I cannot let  _ this  _ go unpunished. This disrespect, this insanity, this…"

She stumbled across her vocabulary, but Hubert couldn't care less, inhaling sharply as she continued.

"I will put an end to  _ this, _ " she growled, the fire from within flaring in her words, exuding a mixture of calm, focus and  _ flames _ that he couldn't quite pinpoint. 

Hubert didn't understand what she meant by  _ this  _ either. Until the realization hit, his heart heavy as he noticed that  _ this  _ meant much more than only the cruelty she had been subject to.

_ This _ was so much more than his mind could grasp.

And yet he didn't care. There was a resolve behind her eyes, one that inspired him to rally forward. 

"Hubert," she said, voice drawing lower. "Will you stay with me?"

Years ago, he had left her in the cold and paid dearly for it. Now, as his jaw clenched, Hubert knew that he would not leave her side. Not because he was a Vestra, but because he didn't want to. The thought sounded awfully poetic in his mind and even more as the words left his lips.

"Wherever you go, I will follow, Lady Edelgard."

Hubert raised his hand to his chest, in an attempt to bow down in respect, but he was cut off by her gesture.

His gaze snapped back to her. She was exhaling quietly, closing her eyes. 

"Thank you, Hubert."

Before he could muster an answer, she walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his chest wordlessly. Air left his lungs as if someone had just punched him in the gut. It wasn't normal for them to hug as if they were simply playmates.

There was a pointed distance between them, as he was her servant, even if there was a kinship there. 

Yet Lady Edelgard was different.

Slowly, he drew his arms up, pulling her closer with a clumsy embrace. Hubert's eyes averted back to his hands. Tiny hands that couldn't stop what had happened. Small hands tainted with blood regardless.

Her shoulders were trembling slightly, the collar of his shirt getting damp as he didn't dare to look down, for he had nothing to say.

Just like the flame that  _ they _ had awakened in her, they set free another creature. A rat, scuttling in the shadows, one that would do anything for his lady and do it gladly.

**Yes.**

Perhaps he was a rat.

"I will walk this path with you, Lady Edelgard."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this was a bit of a struggle. It is rather difficult to not only write children but to differentiate between Hubie's 8yo self and 12yo. Still I did something. 
> 
> Another detail of note is my emphasis on dark magic. You know, one of the sad things about 3H class system is how it lacks lore associated with their canon classes. Like, Shamir is a sniper and she tells why in one of her supports. Since the students don't have set classes, sadly we will never see Hubert explaining his affinity to dark magic, for example. Oh well, I had to take it to my own hands.
> 
> Kudos/Comments/Feedback is always appreciated.


	3. Ties That Bind

"Perhaps you should pace yourself, Lady Edelgard," Hubert said, but his voice barely rose above the noise of wood hitting wood.

Still, Edelgard probably heard, sparing him a glance between blows, one eyebrow raised as if he had just uttered the worst of profanities. 

The clash of training weapons continued, as Hubert stared at the scene. Jeritza, barely breaking a sweat, holding his wooden sword gracefully, and Edelgard, breathless and squinting her eyes, holding a training ax.

"Your pose is sloppy," Jeritza mumbled, a monotone voice that would make Marquis of Vestra seem like an emotional child. The thought was amusing, indeed, Hubert pondered, his lips curling in a smirk. 

The training instructor launched forward, a flash as if man and sword had become one. She barely had the time to react before the strength of her opponent sent her reeling, wood hitting wood.

Hubert winced slightly, letting out a huff. This man truly had no qualms. He crossed his arms, shifting on his weight as the struggle continued and it was very clear who was losing. Edelgard apparently didn’t care for it though, as she continued to make advance after advance. To her credit, she recomposed herself, focusing on the fight ahead. Jeritza, relentless in his pursuit, commented again, just as emotionless.

“Your grip is still too weak.”

With one swift movement, Jeritza hit the training axe once more, sending it flying across the training grounds and landing close to Hubert’s feet. The sudden silence hangs for a few moments, Edelgard taking the time to straighten her posture and Jeritza merely setting the wood sword aside.

Hubert tapped his feet on the ground, squinting his eyes towards Jeritza. That man – if he even could be truly called such – lacked in manners in such a way that it was beyond Hubert how he had been raised as a noble. As if to prove the affirmation, the training instructor turned on his heels, leaving Edelgard with one last comment.

“Next time, don’t appear here so tired.”

What could have been considered concern if it had been spoken by anyone else, sounded terribly condescending in Hubert’s ears. He clenched his jaw, fully aware that Jeritza, despite his faults, was on their side, at least for now. The man was predictable. He wanted to fight and fight and fight, nothing else of his life.

A husk, limbless and aimless and pointless.

“Hubert.” Edelgard’s voice cut through his distraction, his eyes snapping back to her. She had to kneel on his side, picking up the training axe. Inspecting it closely, she had clearly given it a few extra dents, given the strength of her blows. 

“What brings you here?” Her tone might have seemed relaxed to anyone, but Hubert knew better. The underlying question. Or rather, questions. Did something happen? Is it my uncle? Those Who Slither In The Dark? They were all on edge, particularly with the training instructor, who she had lent to her uncle’s unknown purposes. 

He quickly eased her fears, shaking his head.

“Nothing of importance, Lady Edelgard,” he said. shaking his head. “I merely came here to accompany you back to class. It seems you’ve been training harder than usual.”

He politely didn’t mention that Caspar had commented on how she had been training herself to exhaustion all week. 

Edelgard blinked slowly, nodding in response as she set the training axe aside. He could see the tension along her jawline, the telltale sign of an incoming headache. A consequence of the strain self-imposed over the years, he knew. Still, he made a mental note of arranging some chamomile tea, given the opportunity. 

“The year is passing by quickly,” she muttered a seemingly harmless comment. Small talk to anyone else’s ears. But he knew better. Once the year approached its end, so would the days of peace.

“Is that why you’ve been training harder than usual?” 

She proceeded to leave and Hubert followed suit. It was a sunny, busy day in Garreg Mach, not unlike many and many others in this place. A perfect day to speak in whispers that wouldn’t be noticed by anyone, too distracted by their own little busy lives. 

“Indeed,” she answered his question, with a roll of her shoulders that wasn’t quite a shrug, but more of an attempt of easing the tension. “Although there are still quite a few months to come, I admit that I feel like the time is running away too fast. I must learn as much as I can.”

Hubert nodded, but he wasn't quite convinced.

* * *

A day came and went before Hubert found himself with his arms crossed once again, witnessing Edelgard spar with the professor. He didn’t quite bother with trying to stop her this time, for he knew if she hadn’t listened with Jeritza, Edelgard certainly wouldn’t pay heed to his words with Byleth. 

The two of them were wielding swords this time around, a dance that Hubert barely could watch properly. Unlike Jeritza, Byleth's style relied on her unpredictability, the spark of the inhuman that loomed over her.

Byleth mixed feints and stabs and slashes, pushing Edelgard back to the defensive. Hubert squinted his eyes. He had been watching the duel for at least ten minutes and he had count at least a dozen opportunities for a counterattack for Edelgard. Yet she didn't follow.

It wasn't like she couldn't. He had watched her performance on the battlefield time and time again, more than enough to know about such details. And he knew the reason too.

She was tired.

The professor disengaged first, leaning back. Edelgard stayed on guard, breathing heavily. Byleth merely tilted her head, the permanent smile plastered on her face like it had been glued there.

"That's it," Byleth said. Her voice was low and Hubert wondered if she had even spoken at all. There was something about her that drew his gaze as if he would forget her face if he looked away. Like a chameleon, that didn't have true colors and could pass by anything given the opportunity.

"Professor."

Seteth, Rhea's equally unnatural right hand, appeared on the training grounds. Hubert quirked an eyebrow, as all eyes in the room darted to the newcomer. Quite a rare visitor. 

"Seteth," the professor spoke first, turning on her heels, a slight smile lighting up her eyes. An even rarer sight, Hubert couldn't help but notice. "It's time. I apologize. I got caught up in training."

Seteth shook his head, resting his forehead on his fingers.

"Your duties are nothing to simply 'forget about', Professor," he chided, but it lacked the usual bite. 

Byleth spared a glance to Edelgard, who waved goodbye as she set aside the weapons. The professor's eyes shifted back to Hubert. Just as lively as dead fish. Hubert politely waved her goodbye as well. 

So the pair walked away, leaving Hubert and Edelgard alone in the training grounds once more. This time, he couldn't hold his tongue.

"Did you know that tiring yourself beyond your limits will only hurt your performance in the long run, Lady Edelgard?" he muttered, a smirk playing on his lips. "As talented as you are, neglecting your health will only cause harm."

"You're the one to say," she spat out, quirking an eyebrow. "I've yet to see you even do as much as nod off, in all these years."

Hubert chuckled, granting her a small shrug.

"Coffee does wonders. Still, my point remains."

He was right. And she knew it, Hubert could see it in her eyes. Still, there was a certain stubbornness in her – wise men say that one's worst flaws stem as reflections of one's best virtues and Hubert would gladly deal with stubbornness if it meant witnessing her unyielding determination – that didn't allow her to give up her ground.

"And you think you know my limits better than I do?" she rebutted, crossing her arms.

"I wouldn't be as vain as to think so, Lady Edelgard," he bowed down shallowly. "You have surpassed my expectations time and time again. What I do know is that you have the habit of knowing that you are at your limit and proceeding to ignore it anyway."

"That's rich coming from you," she smirked, her voice turning playful for a moment before shifting to a gravelly, modulated tone that didn't quite belong to her. "Lady Edelgard, the Empire affairs require your utmost diligence in order to be completed. Please, come with me so we can decide it properly instead of idling."

Hubert's lips curled up in a smile.

"An almost flawless imitation, Lady Edelgard. I like to believe that I have a deeper tone, however. Also, I merely urge you to be efficient. I want you to succeed, so it is my duty to be the 'uptight' one, as once you put when you thought I wasn't listening."

She squinted her eyes, quirking a corner of the mouth. Still, Edelgard turned on heels, waving for him to come along. Also known as completely ignoring his advice.

"I was fully aware that you were listening, I should remark."

However, the rebuttal was weak, lacking the insult of a true offense, granting him a small victorious smile as he straightened his back.

Regardless, Hubert followed along, accompanying her a step behind as they got back to their usual duties. He knew that he could argue about the various consequences of overworking and how it wouldn't be efficient, but it was pointless. 

Hubert would just have to find more subtle ways of helping her.

* * *

The twilight cast shadows over the Garreg Mach Monastery, bringing to the Officers Academy a delightfully somber look it couldn’t quite achieve during the day. Even if some sharp corners of his mind still felt bitterness towards the very symbol of the Church of Seiros’s dominance over the land, it was undeniable that its beauty revealed itself once the garish light of day faded away.

The Knights of Seiros were guiding a few stray students back to their dorms, trying to catch any naughty couples who think they can get away with it. Hubert’s lips curled up in a smirk. Of course, it was harder to avoid such a problem when said boy’s dorm was just beside the girl’s dorm. 

He knocked on her door, eyes sharp for anybody who could be around. It quickly proved to be safe, as Edelgard opened her door. 

Hubert couldn’t help but notice the bags under her eyes – not that he could lecture anyone in that subject – and the stiffness of her limbs. Still, it wasn’t his place to point it out. That and the fact that she wouldn’t listen to him if he complained directly, he had long understood that Edelgard required more subtle ways of convincing. The same determination that he so much admired had proven to result in stubbornness as well.

“Hubert,” she mumbled, tilting her head to the side. “What is it?”

There was a permanent alertness on her stance, one that saw a threat in every corner. Hubert was quick to ease her fears.

"Here,” he said. “I‘ve taken my liberties with the medical supplies. I suppose they wouldn’t miss one or two of these.”

After a quick glance from side to side, guaranteeing no one was around to witness it, Hubert untied out of his belt a small pouch, handing it over to her. She arched one eyebrow, mouth quirking up as she took it from his hands. In response, Hubert arched an eyebrow back, nodding towards the pouch. 

She untied the knot, revealing a small vulnerary. His lips curled up in a smirk, pleased with his decision. Vulneraries like that were reserved to the battlefield, magically induced potions capable of dealing blood loss, numbing the pain and putting back together all in one. Albeit common, just like the priests and bishops of the Church of Seiros, it was limited due to its relative scarceness compared to the multiple small bruises and back pains that one could feel on the daily.

Of course, it was not like Hubert cared about such rules once they didn’t serve his purpose anymore.

Edelgard blinked slowly, settling the vial back on the pouch as her eyes darted over his shoulder, searching for any stray knight that could have seen them. Hubert's chin tilted up, pleased with her discretion. After all, it was hardly the first time the two had to resort to her or his room for talking about secretive subjects.

Still, it brought a spark of satisfaction seeing that she hadn't fallen for the trap of getting used to it.

Edelgard gestured for him to enter quickly and he followed suit, sneaking into her room as she closed the door. 

"Hubert," she spoke up first, still facing the door, "Thank you."

He bowed down, an instinctual gesture despite the fact that she was still facing the door, back turned to him, taking the vial to her lips.

"It is nothing, Lady Edelgard. Although I must ask, why am I sneaking in your room this late at night?"

"I have something to ask of you."

"Oh?"

He tilted his head to the side, crossing his arms he observed her. It wasn't rare that she would require his assistance over some matters, but those hardly demanded his presence in his room after the last bell. 

Edelgard turned on her heels, facing him as took a deep breath, extending her hand between them. For a moment, nothing happened. A second passed, then another. 

Until a small flame flickered in her palm, her fingers twitching in controlling the fire.

"Reason magic?" Hubert questioned, scratching his chin. 

Edelgard nodded back. 

"I would like some instructions from you if you can help me with it."

It was a strange request, to say the least. Edelgard had always seemed more comfortable with an axe or even a sword in hand than trying to accompany the intricacies of magic. Hubert pursed his lips, pondering about it. Reason magic did stem from the depth of one's mind and he would never doubt her resolve, so he could comprehend the professor's opinion on that regard.

As if sensing his conflict – she knew him as well as he knew her, Hubert thought with a tinge of pride – Edelgard spoke up, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"The professor pointed out that I had the potential for Reason magic," she explained. "I admit that I fail to see it. Those last few nights I've slept later than usual attempting to get more than average out of it, but I still don't see anything remarkable."

So that was the true reasoning behind her unusual tiredness during training. Hubert knew that nervousness regarding their plans was natural but clearly was some underlying motive. 

"I'm sure that you could do anything well, Lady Edelgard," he praised. "And you know that I'm willing, even though I'm still questioning why this needs to be done in the dark of the night." 

She nodded, but her gaze wandered to the window for a moment. 

"Sometimes, I feel like it's easier to do it during the night. I admit that I got carried away more than once."

Edelgard's admission might as well have been a "sometimes I don't sleep" for Hubert's ears. Still, it wasn't Hubert's place to defy her directly. Instead, he had to take a more subtle approach.

"Very well. Then show me what you can do."

Edelgard nodded, as he crossed his arms, observing intently as she extended her hand in between them once more. This time, the flame appeared quicker, twitching in her fingers.

_ Fire _ .

Hubert couldn't help but smirk at the irony. Even the ways her magic manifested were a cruel reminder of her fate. This destiny that had bound her to the flames.

"Continue."

His eyes were drawn to the fire, capturing every flicker and detail with meticulous care. Part of him wondered if she could burn down the entirety of Garreg Mach if she wished to. Her fingers flexed once more, letting the flame grow all on its own. It spoke to him, deep and ancient calling of magic, a pull he didn't quite recognize, but Hubert had felt before. He was sure of it.

Hubert was enraptured by the flickering fire, dancing on her fingers, frozen in place as she allowed the fire to take its own shape until her voice made his eyes snap back to her.

"This is no more than a common mage can do, " she said bashfully, closing her hand into a fist and extinguishing the flame. 

"Nonsense. I can easily understand why the professor favored you this way."

She had a strange control over her magic, which betrayed the potential dormant within. Hubert nodded slowly, resting his chin on his hand. Very strange indeed. Edelgard quirked an eyebrow, possibly pondering on whether or not his words were meaningless praise like she often accused him. Instead, Hubert spoke first.

"Can you cast something else?" 

It was a test more than anything else – a suspicion that lied in wait – and Edelgard tilted her head, frowning her brows.

"I'm hardly skilled at other forms of Reason, Hubert. But I can try."

She raised both of her hands at that time, perhaps an attempt to better channeling her magical potential when treading uncharted territory. At first, there was a spark, electric crackling in the room. It shifted to an icy shard forming and melting as it turned into a small gale of wind.

Until Edelgard clapped her hands together and Hubert's attention shifted back to her face. Her face tensed, as she sighed heavily, in a futile attempt to calm herself down. 

"I believe I don't have much potential for other types of Reason, " she mumbled, distraught in admitting defeat. As if Edelgard was even capable of defeat.

He wasn't expecting her to actually cast another type of spell. Truly, there were mages with the potential of dominating more than one type, but even those had to train for longer in order to dominate the whims of Black Magic.

No, he could hear it, the sound that wasn't quite sound, resonating in her. 

Darkness stirred his boldness, perhaps it was truly the call of something older, deeper, sharper than he was. Regardless, Hubert found himself staring back at her as he can't beside her in her bed.

An inappropriate gesture, perhaps, but the scion of House Vestra found himself ignoring the warning.

Edelgard did not retreat from his approach – she was almost incapable of flinching, he noticed – as she stared back at him with curiosity glinting in her eyes.

"That wasn't exactly what I meant, " he mumbled, filling the silence as he sat beside her. 

Nighttime heightened his senses, as he raised his hand and, with ease only adequate to the darkness surrounding them, cast a small ball of dark magic – Miasma. Edelgard hesitantly separated her hands, something in her acknowledging what he was about to do.

"Try it."

He was only human, after all, and the prospect was all too tempting. It resonated within him and he knew that she felt it as well. Worse, he feared that he was right, for if he was, Hubert knew that fate would only wait for them with more blood in their path.

"Very well, " she said, but Hubert almost didn't hear her voice, as she placed her hand over his. Her hand was warm, but the feeling was soon substituted by the cold feel of dark magic.

** _Yes._ **

Deep and ancient and silent, he felt it. Stronger than it was in him, but still reverberating with the waves of dark magic. Her fingers twitched over his and he pressed his palm against hers, letting her instincts guide the energy they were sharing.

** _Can you feel it?_ **

Yes, he could.

His eyes remained tracked on the sphere of dark energy as it flickered and hesitated for a moment. Then, it took shape once more, larger and more menacing than before.

"Hubert," she whispered. 

Her gaze shifted back to her, staring back into her eyes – violet, violet of an unnatural color that didn't belong to her and yet it looked so beautiful.

His thoughts strayed as he said nothing, waiting for her to continue. Give him an order? Send him away? Ask for his criticism? Insecurity took hold of him as if there was a hand squeezing his heart out of his chest.

Her lips parted and he could see her shoulder trembling as if she planned on saying something. No words were spoken, however. 

Dark energy flared and flickered. It heard his thoughts, it read his mind and it knew that he was hesitating. Perhaps that was the true difference between black magic and dark magic. Black magic listened to the will of the caster, dark magic preyed on one's most inner thoughts.

It was a dangerous game, the one he played with the dark – or was the dark that played with him? Hubert gulped, not quite knowing the answer.

His gaze wandered into the dark magic – formed by their hands, indeed. It grew and mingled with the darkness of the room, the moonlight barely making a dent in the looming shadows.

** _The shadows she created._ **

A flare of pride sparked in his chest, his lips parting in a sigh. Edelgard seemed just as lost in the moment as he was, enthralled by the dark magic. Her lips were parted as well, a slight tinge of a blush coloring her cheeks. Inviting? Perhaps. It was so tempting to just raise his other hand and card his fingers through her white hair. 

She was stunning. Beautiful.

And that very thought was enough for him to snap out of it.

Hubert retreated his hand swiftly, the magic fading in the air as if it was never there in the first place. Blinking rapidly in an attempt to regain his faculties, he got up, his knees wobbly from the effort, as his eyes darted back to Edelgard. 

Whatever connected them both, the magic that had flowed between the two like a river stream, faded at that moment, as she glanced up, brows furrowed and trembling shoulders.

"What was that?" 

Her voice regained a commanding tone, but it was superficial, lacking in resolve and Hubert wasn't so sure it was because of the tiredness of her body.

"Dark magic, " he whispered. "I suspected you had the potential for it once you said that you favored the dark of the night to cast your spells."

It was hardly an explanation and he knew it. But at least it could be a form of stalling until he caught his breath. Dark magic was powerful, but it came from the depths of one's mind. An abyss, ancient and deep and slow, that smelled the caster's intentions and knew more about them than themselves. 

Edelgard, however, did not have this knowledge at hand. So she tilted her head to the side, white hair draping her shoulders. Waiting for him to continue. He gulped hard, straightening his back.

"This kind of Reason magic is relatively rare and it behaves very differently of usual black magic."

"How so?"

** _Many ways._ **

"Dark magic stems from one's mind, just like black magic. But it has its roots deeper than black magic, " he chose his words carefully, "It can only be tamed by one's primal convictions. Only one with an extreme focus can ever tame this type of magic."

He politely didn't mention how it was correlated with death as well. There was no need to remind her of her terrible fate. His jaw clenched in tension, averting his gaze.

But she knew him well, too well. Lady Edelgard and he were always different from the others, that much he would never deny.

"But?" She pressed the question, rising on her feet as she demanded his attention. His gaze turned back to her, as he fought to keep his expression neutral. A beat passed and she did not yield. Not that he expected her to.

"But it's also hard to control even if you such clear, deep-rooted objectives, " he hedged, attempting to find his footing in treacherous soil. "You are truly powerful like the Professor said. I would recommend that you try first Black magic, before treading this path."

She squinted her eyes. "Very well." She agreed with her words, but shook her head, belying her suspicion. 

"Now if you will allow me, I should take my leave, " he bowed down in respect. 

Dark magic stirred corners of his mind that he didn't know, alongside ones that he would prefer to remain hidden. It gave him the will to kill, summoning inside of him what he had of most obscure, but that was the darkness he knew the most, the darkness House Vestra worked in.

Those pointless feelings, which the dark magic unfurled, those he could not control. And if he couldn't control them, Hubert wouldn't allow them to grow. It was all he could do.

As Edelgard waved a dismissal, he turned on his heels, heading for the door. It was getting late, the moon high in the sky, looming over them as if observing his retreat.

** _Cowardice._ **

It spoke to him in no recognizable words, but the message was clear. Hubert also learned to ignore it after a few years. It was no use to wallow in thoughts far too deep for him.

He turned the doorknob, slowly as if any more noise would wake someone up. Hubert watched the outside, guaranteeing that no stray knight would witness his escape. His room was right beside hers, but he still needed to be sure. Back pressed against the door, he almost took a step outside before her voice cut him off.

"Wait."

His eyes shifted back to the room, facing Edelgard. She was close – far too close for a servant and his mistress – looking up at him with her unnatural violet eyes, glistening with some sort of fickle emotion. Close, very close and warm.

Edelgard placed her hand over his – he hoped the spark he felt was from the lingering magic – closing the door behind him silently. His back was still pressed against the door, as she pinned him in place without even a single touch.

Edelgard placed her hand on his cheek, a hesitant touch. And she waited. 

Hubert froze in place and he knew what she wanted. There was no denying it. He stilled under her touch, the urge leaning just a little bit forward and letting it go. 

But he could not.

His jaw tensed and she felt it. He knew that she did. Perhaps one of the problems of knowing each other too well.

She blinked slowly, retreating her hand, letting the warmth be quickly replaced by the cold air.

"Goodnight, Hubert."

With those last words, her hand turned the doorknob, as she straightened her back, turning on heels wordlessly.

"Goodnight, Lady Edelgard, " he whispered, but his voice lacked energy, as he slipped into the night.

Hubert closed the door behind him.

_ Fool. _

The voice in the back of his mind didn't belong to anyone else but him, as he entered his own room. The place was normally a comfort for him, away from all the prying eyes of the other students, but that night it seemed particularly cold.

Serves him right. He had slipped too far for comfort and he could blame no one but himself for his carelessness.

Whatever had happened in that room was his own delusion, mixed with the temptation of feelings he could not name. She needed him, until the last droplet of his blood left his body, until there wasn't a breath of air in his lungs. 

Until Enbarr burned down to ashes, he belonged to her. As her servant. It was fine if he carried his burden until the end of his days. All that mattered was her goals and he wouldn't be able to serve her optimally if his useless feelings got in the way.

Shaking his head to perish all thoughts of the lingering warmth of her body, he prepared himself to sleep, although he was fully aware that slumber wouldn't come easy to him.

Edelgard did not seem as tired as before. Hubert did not volunteer for any more training in Reason. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask me how this happened. These two just write themselves.


	4. Point of No Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jeritza's voice* "i live"  
Anyway I'm alive I swear. Hopefully this will be worth the wait.

"You shouldn't take the professor with you."

It was the first day of Pegasus Moon and the winter had reached its peak, the cold winds despite the bright weather signaling the impending frigid nights. Not that Garreg Mach had ever suffered from the worst of it, certainly not like Faerghus. Still, the coldness provided a fair excuse as to why Hubert's shivered whenever the professor passed by.

Pale green hair. Pale green eyes. Fascinating, but also dangerous.

The Goddess made flesh, blessed by the revelations from Sothis herself. To Hubert, she still seemed very much human and mortal chasing Solon, but even he couldn't deny the aura that had infected Byleth. Or perhaps it was always there?

His treacherous mind wandered, but Hubert quickly decided that he didn't know and didn't want to discover. Edelgard, however, clearly had other plans.

"Do you have any objections?"

It was a defense, a poor one. Easy to see, but hard to avoid without overstepping his role. Hubert squinted his eyes, looking side to side searching any stray student passing by. Luckily for him, not many dared to wander near Jeritza's chambers since his alleged disappearance, leaving the two alone. Nevertheless, discretion was required.

"Byleth is unpredictable, Lady Edelgard. You have already revealed much and yet we don't know where she stands," he hissed, restraining his biting tone.

"We may not know where she stands, but this might be just enough to sway her to our side."

Edelgard's expression hardened and Hubert knew there was no working around it. At least, all he could do was to ask one more thing.

"Very well, Lady Edelgard," he muttered. "But I wish to ask you one thing – in favor of your safety."

She tilted her head to the side, stubbornness quickly melting into curiosity.

"What is it?"

"If you were to look for her, it would be too obvious that you require the professor's presence for your own ends. Let her come to you if she wishes to. Hint at it, but don't ask until you are certain that she might be inclined to follow you."

Hubert crossed his arms, letting her take in his idea. Ultimately, the decision was her own to make. She rested her chin on her hand, frowning her eyebrows. Pondering, he concluded. Good. That was all he could ask of her.

"So be it. This is indeed reasonable," she complied, blinking slowly. "I will do as you say then."

Hubert exhaled slowly, but the tension on his shoulders remained.

"Thank you."

Despite the distant noise – Byleth's new powers had become everyone's favorite rumor – silence fell between them. Hubert crossed his arms, tempted to fidget, but determined not to. Regardless of the unease on the pit of his stomach, he would not interfere with Edelgard's will. 

He had, more than once, acted as an independent unit. It saved time on subjects he had the expertise to handle and when Hubert felt sure he could override her decision in order to achieve a better outcome.

Byleth, however, was not one of those subjects.

Hubert knew Edelgard well enough to understand that anything that he did to Byleth was far too much for her to forgive if she were to discover his transgression. He wouldn't risk it, even if some deep, slow, aggressive beast inside of him tensed every time Byleth turned the corner.

Unaware of his musings, Edelgard crossed her arms as well, drawing his attention.

"Hubert," she whispered and he had lean down slightly in order to hear her next words, "Where is your first task?"

They both knew Hubert was leaving as soon as that very night. There was much to be done still and Hubert was the only one fit for it. As it was demanded of operations on such scale, he would have to slip in and out of the noble's houses like the night wind. 

"Enbarr itself," he said back, eyes tracked as the professor ran by, probably in order to fish or deliver more items to other students. His back tensed, unable the tear away his stare of the pale green streaks. "House Vestra has many resources that will aid in purging the remaining corrupt nobles and I have to access them as soon as possible."

Such a phrase was a severe understatement. While Hubert could skillfully pull off assassinations if needed to, House Vestra's arsenal and contacts that could only be accessed by the Marquis himself could not be ignored. In fact, if he planned on getting it done and going back to Garreg Mach by the end of the month, it was imperative that he took control.

A new Minister of the Imperial Household was far overdue already.

His jaw tensed and so did his shoulders, but he managed to not spit out every profanity he knew to curse his father. A daunting task, he had to acknowledge.

Edelgard, perhaps noticing his discomfort, shifted on her weight, crossing her arms. Her eyes were tracked as the professor by as well, but instead of the venomous suspicion that Hubert had, Edelgard preferred a soft, almost childlike curiosity. 

"Her aid would be immeasurably helpful. I trust that you know that as well as I do."

Oh, he knew. He had seen the almost godlike skill that the professor had, observing and predicting the enemies' each move. In a way, he knew that it was no tactics, although it was easier to believe that the mercenary days had risen her above the strategies of the sheltered students. The other option, which involved admitting that perhaps Byleth was blessed all along, was less feasible. Even if he wouldn't be surprised if that ended up true.

"Is her aid worth the risks, my lady?"

Byleth's skill couldn't be questioned. What was truly in question was whether or not they could pay the price if she didn't follow down their bloody path. Or at least if she didn't turn a blind eye to it, if nothing else. Hubert didn't think that they could afford the archbishop even catching as much as a whiff of their plans beforehand, sniffing with her inhuman senses the stench of heretics. 

"What do you think are the risks involved, Hubert?"

She knew exactly what could happen, but she would still question him. Prodding and poking at his defenses, ready to fight for her standpoint like a dying man with nothing else to lose fending off the wild wolves. Hubert's lips twitched in a sinister smirk, his eyes drawn back to her in challenge. 

Edelgard, in contrast, had her arms crossed, fingers tight on her forearm and white knuckles revealing the emotion that her stony expression hid. In face of such opponent, he had to tread it softly like the caress of a feather. 

"You are to be Emperor, Lady Edelgard," he whispered, letting the weight of the words talk louder than his voice. An ambiguous statement, even obvious to less attentive ears, but that hid more and much more. "If even a whisper reaches the wrong ears, the consequences are unpredictable."

Wrong and pointy and inhuman ears.

"Byleth barely speaks if not spoken to. Even then, she has no reason to believe that my actions are anything more than a political move on behalf of the Empire," she hissed, violet eyes darting over to rendezvous with his. "Or that her presence there means anything more than having the Goddess's vessel as a viable substitute for the archbishop."

Like a jaguar locking their jaw on the prey's neck, she wasn't letting go of the idea. Of course. He had already acknowledged it nothing but moments prior and yet the dread crawling up his spine didn't subside. 

Instead, he averted his eyes, letting out a short sigh. The idea had been settled. Edelgard was going to let Byleth talk to her. He didn't know why he insisted on locking horns, if not to quiet down the dull ache on his shriveled heart. 

Edelgard, just as finely attuned to him as he was to her, sighed as well, her eyes inadvertently darting back to Jeritza's door.

"I am to be Emperor."

Words said too little to convey the weight of her tone, of all the lurking monsters and slithering rats that it hid. 

"Yes. You are."

The weight of the crown was much heavier than any axe and any guilt and any memories. His soon-to-be position as Minister would be nothing compared to the heaviness of the Empire on her back, despite his best efforts to share the burden.

He sighed, his chest constricted by the one too many thoughts swirling in his mind. So many duties, so much to rebuild and so much to fight for. She had a vision, bright and glorious, but they would have carve a path in blood to get there. Very well.

Hubert's jaw tensed, his eyes turned to the door to Jeritza's chambers. The place had been unofficially deemed as out of order for any students since Jeritza's blunder with Flayn. Not even the Knights of Seiros dared to peek inside the demon's den often. However, for Hubert and Edelgard, the place held a different meaning.

The price to pay if one were to discover their plans too soon.

The price they would pay if the professor were to denounce them.

His eyes darted back to Edelgard and he bowed down. He had said too much, far too much.

"If you will excuse me, Lady Edelgard."

Without another word, he turned on his heels and took his leave. There was still much to do.

* * *

Packing was often the most annoying kind of work. Hubert would not go as far as to call it lousy, but it certainly deserved some disdain. He grunted, pushing the books aside in order to reach the small, colored vials hidden on the drawer. Just a drop and a grown man could drop dead on the ground. 

The thought flickered a spark of rage in his chest – aimed towards one very specific name and a knife hidden on Hubert's belt. He couldn't control it anymore. It was close, too close, he could almost feel that, if he dared to extend his arm just a little more he could feel the wretched traitor's windpipe closing. Or the blade grazing his neck. 

Hubert's hand stilled, his body freezing as he purged the thought from his mind. A deep breath later and his mind was already back to his usual, rational self. Poison was by far the most efficient method. Marquis Vestra used to be sharp, but not unlike an old dog well past his prime, whose nose would fail to smell the treacherous "pup" until the fangs were latched on his neck.

Poison. Easy and simple and quick. Hubert could claim the kill later.

His fingers tightened around one of the books, his eyes darting back to the cover.

_ Legends of Elibe vol. 4 – The Lord of the Blazing Blade_

One of the many tales that were almost like written folklore across Fódlan, books like such were obligatory literature to any noble worth his salt and to any commoner with enough wit to try their luck climbing the social abyss.

Most of the versions that the nobles would flaunt about and the commoners would seek to possess, however, weren't as complete as the ones he had access in Garreg Mach. One of the many advantages of the Officers Academy.

His fingers traced over the clean, white paper so unlike the beaten versions he had seen elsewhere. He didn't plan on taking them with him, but Hubert had to admit that parting with the books by the month's end would be regrettable.

Alas, he could indulge himself with one last look.

_ Pent, the Mage General of Etruria, had never seen such a book. Old and heavy, handwritten as well. It was a relic in and of itself, but the content inside made it all more enticing. Dark magic, the magic that spoke in whispers to one's soul. His eyes darted from the book to the dark mage before him._

_ "I have collected a great number of books on elder magic, and I thought I had read them all... But to find one of such high quality that I did not know of…"_

_ Canas shook his head, the smile on his face lacking any humor._

_ "I do believe this is the last surviving copy of this book. As I told you before," he said, soft voice tainted by hesitation. "Knowledge of the ancient magics has been passed down in our family for generations. Even this book was to be passed to one of my three brothers."_

_ Pent's face dropped and, assuming too much, he spoke swiftly._

_ "And all three are now dead!! Good Lord, man, you must be…"_

_ He trailed off, but Canas raised his hands in a universal gesture of surrender, ready to clarify the misinterpretation._

And footsteps approached from the other side of his door. Hubert's head snapped back to the closed door, eyes squinted as it slowly opened. A rare visitor to the viper's den.

"Hubert."

Or rather, the most common of his visitors. He let out a breath, shoulders visibly relaxing as Edelgard walked in, shameless in entering his room in broad daylight.

Walking in with a catlike stride, shoulders straight as she closed the door behind her, Edelgard didn't seem fazed in entering his room for anyone to see. White hair perfectly composed and clothes without a single crease, no one would guess that she was walking in a man's room during a pleasant, warm afternoon.

He supposed one looking from the outside could mistake as her simply entering her room, considering that her quarters were just next door, but Hubert couldn't help but feel uneasy with the prospect of her getting caught.

No need to stir the rumors surrounding the two. Also, there was no need for reminders of a certain night a few months prior. 

Hubert shook his head, burying the twinge in his chest as he closed the book.

"I presume you need me for something, Lady Edelgard."

He hoped it didn't come off as too incisive. Maybe he never cared about being too soft with her, but the delicate situation demanded tact. 

Unfortunately, it seemed that whatever reserve of tact he had evaporated in the air, as Edelgard flinched for a moment – she _ never _ flinched, that couldn't possibly be good. 

"I have something to ask," she wedged, crossing her arms and leaning on the closed door. A position far too familiar for him, although he wouldn't dare to get any closer. She was defensive, that much was undeniable. But why?

Hubert set the book aside, placing the vials on the table as well. 

"Very well."

Shifting on her weight, she averted her eyes to the ground. Nervousness? No, that couldn't be it. He had given her no reason to hesitate around him. Not that he knew of. Still, a tinge of apprehensiveness tightened his chest, despite his logical side's best attempts at making clear that there was nothing wrong. Or there shouldn't be.

Hubert crossed his arms as well, waiting for her to gather her wits. Her eyes finally found his again.

"There is nothing actually wrong," she deadpanned, but the hand constricting Hubert's heart did not relent. "I just came here to ask you if you have any plans in case you find my uncle's minions."

Of course. Her loyal servant had to do everything at once and come back in one piece. His eyebrow twitched, but Hubert hoped that nothing more in his expression belied the traitorous tinge of disappointment in his heart.

"Your uncle shouldn't disturb our operations. In fact, if nothing else, this purge should favor him, for he has…" He trailed off, trying to contain the venom coating his tongue. "He has immunity."

She nodded slowly, but her fingers tightened around her forearm. As usual, Hubert did not comment on it. It wasn't his place to do so.

"We supposed that they wouldn't interfere with us once already and look where that lands us." 

Her tone was bitter and biting and regretful and everything in between that her expression didn't dare to belie. Of course. Kronya and Solon. The two pawns inside the monastery who tried to become too much and ended up sliced in half by the Sword of the Creator. Hubert sneered, partially regretful that he didn't manage to get his talons on them. 

Their deaths were too quick for Hubert's taste.

Alas, he would have another opportunity to bare his fangs soon enough. His eyes darted back to the vials, his fingers tingling with anticipation.

Poison. Only poison.

No more and no less. Hubert didn't think of himself as someone who would relish the death of another – unlike the bloodthirsty hound wearing human skin – but there was someone sinister, old, deep speaking in whispers to him, something that waited anxiously for his fated meeting with his father.

Still, Edelgard had asked something of him. He shook his head, politely continuing.

"Still, this is something that is way too beneficial for them. Byleth was–," he stopped himself, averting his eyes. "– still is a wildcard. Purging the corrupt nobles, however, was something established from the start."

It took a few seconds for her to respond.

"Yes, I suppose so," she said, shaking her head. Unconvinced, Hubert noticed. But he could recognize that she wouldn't lock horns with him on this subject. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could put her fears at ease.

At least regarding him, he thought with a grimace. Hubert had long accepted that there were too many of her fears that he wouldn't chase away. As much as they chased him too.

"Edelgard," he prompted, carefully treading on thin ice. "Everything is planned, each and every step along the way. For all that I could possibly imagine going wrong, I've prepared myself. I always have an alibi and one or two to spare."

His tone was relaxed as he attempted to smile back at her. Of course, he had never been good at this kind of gentle reassurance. She grimaced, so he could only assume that his parody of a smile was more like a sinister smirk. 

"So be it," she said, tone even, far too even. She hesitated for a second too long before speaking up again. "Go on, then. Good luck this month."

He bowed down in respect as she turned on her heels, leaving as fast as she had entered. In a second, she was gone already. His heart thumped, so much that he had to wonder if she couldn't hear the steady beat even from the other room. 

A rare occasion indeed. It wasn't often that he would end up so riled up. Not even the bloody battlefield had that effect on him anymore, the cold blood in his veins all but freezing whatever remnants of emotion he had. Yet, he felt like his frozen chest had been set ablaze, all in but a few minutes of enigmatic conversation.

And the sun was setting and he had not time for idling.

Years of meticulous planning would not fall to pieces because of his traitorous heart.

Hubert shook his head, turning once again to the vials and hiding them in his vest, careful as if handling a sleeping, newborn baby. His eyes averted once more to the book. In the cover, a red-haired knight and his lifelong companions, a foreign swordmaster and an armored lord, in a display of almost surreal companionship.

Well, not all stories had to be realistic anyway.

The very thought of reading – it seemed that the innocent child within him hadn't died as he had thought for so long – seared a twinge of sadness over the fact that he would have to part ways with the prized book.

He could afford one last indulgence before leaving. At least it would chase away more invasive, _ emotional _ thoughts. Hubert swiped through the pages, finding where he had left off.

_ He trailed off, but Canas raised his hands in a universal gesture of surrender, ready to clarify the misinterpretation._

_ "Oh, no! They are alive! But...barely. They merely subsist... As you know, elder magic is based on the forces of darkness... It is even more powerful than nature magic, which is often called anima."_

_ Canas hesitated, fumbling with words._

_ "But to use this magic, you must invite the dark forces within you. The temptation to submit to the darkness is...great. ...Unfortunately, the darkness took my brothers... They live...and breathe...their eyes open and close... But...they do not move. And they do not speak."_

_ The tense climate in the air could be cut with a knife. A moment passed. Pent didn't dare speak. He knew dark magic was foul and treacherous. But he didn't imagine it was this dreadful. As if lost in his own thoughts, Canas shifted on his weight, mumbling as if to just continue the conversation._

_ "There is no guarantee that I will not join them... ...... Truthfully, it scares me... However, I must see the other side. My curiosity pushes me ever deeper. It will be my undoing."_

Hubert closed the book. What was supposed to be a short moment of bliss had ended up as a sour taste in his mouth. Consciously, he knew that the dark magic of the tales was mostly just a mix of folklore and reality that didn't quite add up with what he experienced. 

Still, when he thought of how dark magic rooted itself on one's mind, Hubert would have to be made out of stone in order to not feel anything. Especially after Edelgard mentioned the rats that scurried in Fódlan, those who slither in the dark. 

So many of them used dark magic, led astray by the voices that didn't speak, fueling their greed and thoughts of "I, me and mine". 

With a grunt, he closed the book, setting it aside. 

There was still much to do, so much that had to be done that didn't involve thoughts of foul magic and of the soon-to-be Emperor that plagued his mind. He couldn't afford to think about it. Not when it set him astray. 

* * *

"Hmph."

No greetings for his son? Well, he had no greetings for him either. Hubert closed the door to his father's office, careful with the empty glass in his hand. There was no need to have any sort of formalities with a dead man.

"I presume you already know why I am here, father."

Hubert didn't think of him as a father anymore, not in any sense beyond the crudest concept of bloodlines. Yet there was something delightfully pleasant in highlighting their familiar bonds. It made all more personal, more hurtful. A vicious, vengeful, petty part of him wanted to see him squirm just a little, watching his child turn against him.

He wasn't the type to find pleasure in bloodshed, despite the rumors surrounding his person. But there was something old, haggard, aggressive inside of him that begged for it. 

Disappointingly, Marquis Vestra said nothing more. Well. His loss. His last moments would be talking to his son and he wouldn't even try to get some small talk going? Time was his most precious resource and he wouldn't even stall. Pitiful.

Hubert's jaw tensed, but all he did was turn back to his father. Slowly. Hubert didn't have time to spare but he would savor this. His father was sitting down on his chair, one that had seemed so immense a few years before, yet no more. The same could apply to the man, who once already worn pride like a mantle, but right there seemed to have aged thirty years in those seven. 

Whatever façade of neutrality that Hubert had put together now was cracking as a hint of a sinister smirk formed on his lips.

"For the crimes that you have committed against the crown and against your Emperor," he said every word slowly, savoring the sweetness of the poison. So many crimes he had committed and so many atrocities Marquis of Vestra had been indirectly responsible? Hubert knew the Minister wasn't a main player of the game and yet so much had happened to Edelgard because of him. 

One of his father's eyebrow twitched slightly. Did he thought Hubert was speaking of Emperor Ionius? If so, then Marquis of Vestra knew little of his own son.

"Would like to see them listed for you?" 

If the Marquis even listened to his son's words, he didn't even react to them. Whatever shred of Hubert's patience burned away. 

"Your sentence is death by poison," Hubert finished. Judge, jury, and executioner. 

He pulled out a vial of poison and showed the glass on his right hand, pouring the content slowly. His father's eyes were tracked on the cup, lips slightly downturned as if just mildly inconvenienced by the whole incident.

"Hemlock."

So the old hound still talks. Hubert was almost about to guess that the man's tongue had fallen off after all those years unused, rotten, and fetid. Hubert walked closer, fully confident on his father's passiveness. And also relying on the sniper properly placed in the window of a nearby tower in the Palace, ready to react to the slightest misstep.

"It is indeed hemlock."

The man _ laughed _, a dull sound that sounded one of the mangled hellhounds of legends. Hubert was sure he must have pulled a muscle on his face after, but the contemptible disgrace kept talking.

"Then you've got better."

_ Self-conceited wretch._

Perhaps it was the months of battle training, instinct honed sharp to perfection. Perhaps it was the presumptuousness oozing out of his father's words. Perhaps Hubert just wanted to.

Hubert pulled out the knife. The blade bit the older man's neck. Pressing just enough to wound the skin. Part of him expected black ooze to gush out instead, but it was just red liquid like everyone else's blood. 

"You have long lost the right of speaking to me this way," Hubert hissed, barely controlling his voice.

Any right he had as a father had been lost the day his traitorous actions led up to Edelgard's plight. Hubert just took longer to understand that. 

Something old, deep, slow rang on his ears. It was so close. Hubert could almost feel the slice of his throat. He wondered if the sniper on the back was watching, hand on his quiver as he would witness the Imperial Princess's personal snake reveal his cold blood and steel fangs. Patricide, the whispers in the dark would murmur to all willing to hear.

Hubert stared right back at his father's eyes as if daring with words unspoken. Words not for himself, but for Edelgard. Not his future Emperor, no. For Edelgard, Hubert noticed as his heart clenched. 

The words that left his father's lips were calculated and low as if he was scolding him for eating too many sweets. 

"You don't want to do this."

** _Yes, you do._ **

Hubert's hand went still. A beat passed. He lowered the knife. As Edelgard said, blood would only be shed if strictly necessary. It was only fair. And Hubert was losing control, treading far too deep and that would be his undoing.

"Drink it."

Marquis of Vestra, Minister of the Imperial Household, took the glass in his hand. Part of Hubert expected that his father would have some last words to say. It was not the case.

As the miserable pile of filth gulped down the hemlock, Hubert half-expected some sort of relief. The sweet taste of revenge, perhaps even the sour flavor of guilt. Nothing came.

Instead, Hubert's mind snapped back to Edelgard, finding solace in the idea that least one of those who wronged her was already gone. Still a hundred of pesky rats to go.

* * *

While the same couldn't be said about the Agarthans, whose pride contaminated their blood like a plague, those who slither in dark were often fidgety and jumpy. One wouldn't see it unless they got close, but Hubert was always a little bit too close of them.

Like rats moving their whiskers and jumping at the slightest noise, the underlings were pathetic.

Attracted by the allure of power, they all gathered around the Agarthans, falling prey to dark magic's fangs. Perhaps they didn't go numb like the books would say, but almost. Dark magic had not corrupted them the dramatic way one would read about, but once those men had the doors of their minds wide-open, they would abandon all they had before and became one of the rats. Family, friend, jobs, lifes, all for naught as they became one of many rodents scuttling in the shadows. 

Just a scratch on the surface of the deep, old, instinctual mind that every human hid and they were done for.

One of them, a man with a plague mask that could easily make him pass by one of the dark merchants, scuttled closer, a black shape indistinguishable from the night around him if not for Hubert's keen vision.

"I presume you need something."

Arrogant tone, but he was not inherently wrong for doing so. Perhaps he was even making himself seem confident by going on the offensive. Not that Hubert could blame him. He'd had to resort to similar tactics one too many times. Still, Hubert hadn't slithered his way back to Enbarr in order to have a pleasant chat.

"You assumption is correct," he played the same game, hands behind his back as the two stood off just near Enbarr's gates. If a guard saw them, so be it. He could always slither away. But he would prefer to get the answers quickly. "I believe you were the one observing the Imperial Palace during the Emperor's coronation."

"Yes," he huffed, crossing his arms. "Why?"

How blunt.

"Tell me, did you see anyone else on the throne room?"

The man took a step back, his arms loosening as confusion became etched in his posture. Hubert did not yield however, maintaining a deadly serious expression.

"Well," the man said, the words tumbling out of his tongue. "Emperor Ionius and his personal guard were there as well. I believe Duke Aegir also witnessed the power transference…"

The man trailed off and a hand of ice seized Hubert's heart. _ He had said it since the start, he should have got rid of that unpredictable menace long ago–_

"There was also a weird one there too. I believe it was your professor. Don't ask me why she was there, though."

And just as quickly as it had appeared, the tightness on his chest subsided. As much as his logical side tried to warn him that there were still risks, the thought of Edelgard pleased with the professor's support and the possibility of it not backfiring as he feared were enough. 

"Good."

With a single word and a short sigh, Hubert turned on his heels, leaving the other dark mage to fend for himself. There was still much to be done, but at least he could rest for a bit knowing that there was a chance of success.

* * *

"Stay still, my lady," Hubert murmured, but he wasn't certain if she was the one trembling.

Regardless, Edelgard nodded, staying painfully still as Hubert clasped her armor, the robes in black and red dwarfing her small form. Kneeling as he was, it was painfully obvious how she was not _ tall _or particularly built by any means. He wouldn't ever question her strength, but the sight was both magnificent and heart-wrenching. 

Mantles of flame heavy on her shoulders carrying the weight of a new world. 

Personification of the fire that was set to her body and soul. It was said that the men of old – before the Goddess and her inhuman children and even before the proud humans who nestled in the dark – they used to believe fire symbolized both purification and destruction of the forces of evil. Hubert couldn't know if it was true, since little had survived in their world for so long to know. Yet the analogy seemed fitting. Edelgard as flame incarnate, her triumphant power ruling over this land, reforging the world.

Hubert's didn't falter, but his hands tensed. A dream that could only be fulfilled if they took the first step down a trail of blood. 

The two of them were just the Garreg Mach outskirts, settled in a base for the Adrestian Empire. Perhaps they couldn't just bring an entire army, but, over the last months, they had assembled a handful of different fighters. 

If they had brought Adrestian soldiers, all of the villagers would notice. But if there was a handful of soldiers looking for a drink, some strange "dark merchants" settling in an inn and a mercenary band looking for work, all over the span of a few weeks, that could be easily overlooked, even by the sharp eyes of the Knights of Seiros.

Hubert grinned to himself, imagining how much Metodey, that pathetic beast struggling in his human skin, must have felt proud of the "scheme". Of course, if he was going to make Hubert the favor of shifting the blame towards himself by claiming that the plan was his, who was Hubert to stop him?

Shaking his head, Hubert stood up, picking up the helmet and mask left aside. Edelgard stopped him with a gesture.

"There is no need for this."

Hubert's mouth opened and closed as if the words had ended up stuck on his throat. She couldn't mean it. He couldn't possibly have heard it right.

"Are you sure?" 

The disbelief must have been clear in his voice, for Edelgard turned her head to him, her white hair framed by red feathers.

"Yes," she confirmed and, one more time, Hubert knew there was no discussing it. "This is the last moment I will need to be the Flame Emperor behind a mask. If I plan on leading the Empire, then I must do it as my own self."

No more masks of flames then. 

Part of him still hesitated. Why was she doing it like that? Was there a reason for it? He didn't know and it wasn't his place to question it. Still, he was now the Minister of the Imperial Household. He had no attachment to the title, but if nothing else he could claim that his role as an advisor was what compelled him to speak up instead of the tightness in his chest.

"Putting yourself out in the open might prove to be ineffective. The assault at the Holy Tomb is hardly our main operation and Metodey is little more than a bandit with a pretty rank."

Nevertheless, Edelgard cared for none of, crossing her arms. 

"There will be no need for a mask after it, so there is no point using it there either."

Hubert blinked slowly, letting none of the rapid thoughts about safety appear on his expressions. She could handle herself, much more used to the carnage of a battlefield than he was. No, his place was in her shadow, sneaking behind enemies who didn't yield axes to rake through the battlefield, but the ones that held quills that could issue the order to the battalions. Hopefully, he would plunge a sword in the back of those who had held the knives that cut her flesh as well. One of them was already down.

"As you wish."

He settled the mask and helmet aside. There was not a word between them, but it was impossible to be in silence. There was too much noise, soldiers marching back and forth, the unease of the impending battle taking a toll on all of them.

They had placed a few soldiers near where they assumed was the Holy Tomb entrance, a squad that would send a magical signal once they saw Rhea and Byleth enter the place. Then and only then, the main armada would storm Garreg Mach's gates.

The bitter fact was that until the proper time came around, all they could do was stay put. Twiddling thumbs. Hubert had a few tricks up his sleeve in case the first squad failed, but the truth was that he knew that the time they would lose if those first soldiers failed could be decisive.

That much was nerve-wracking, almost as pleasant as a gargoyle chewing on his brains. Hubert had always prided himself on his rational side, but his thoughts were scattered like ashes in the wind.

"Hubert." Edelgard's voice cut through his nervous musings. "I presume everything went well on your end?"

His eyes snapped back to hers, hoping that the slowness of his responses wouldn't expose how tired he was.

"Yes, Lady Edelgard," he agreed, maintaining his tone level. "Everything went as planned."

"Including the sleepless hours on horseback and sending letters?" 

Hubert's lips twitched in a smirk. So she wasn't going to let it slide. Bravissimo. 

"Yes, indeed."

He wasn't ashamed of it, not at all. In fact, if nothing else, Hubert felt a tinge of pride blooming on his chest. When all was said and all was done, he had performed excellently. The personification of the Emperor's shadow, he had–

"I hope you are aware that you won't be fighting with me in the Holy Tomb then."

And his pride deflated like a balloon popped with a needle. 

"My lady–"

"Your hands were trembling when you were clasping the armor and I don't want to ask how much coffee you drank in these last weeks."

Another thing she had noticed. He physically recoiled, eyes cast downwards in an attempt of avoiding the inevitable. Her pretty mouth a fine, tense line. Brows swooping down in displeasure. Or was it concern? He didn't tread far into those thoughts.

His shriveled heart – unaccustomed with beating so fast – ached in his chest, heavy and pounding. Even so, his eyes snapped back to her, holding her violet gaze despite the fact that it sparked something inside of him that he would rather not talk about too much. A four-letter word, too big for its own good.

As if interpreting his silence as anger instead of pondering – or did she know of his far too emotional thoughts? – Edelgard's expression softened.

"Not having you on my side for the grand battle would be truly regrettable," she acquiesced, gauntlets clicking as she fiddled with her fingers. "So I will order you to stand down during the first assault. Your current state is less than ideal and, even if burning the midnight oil isn't news to you anymore, I still believe it is better you stay on the rearguard."

Far, far away from the main assault. Where he wouldn't be close enough to help her if she needed him. Hubert suppressed a grimace, his face contorting with a mix of ache and concern. He wasn't insane enough to think he was stronger than her on the battlefield, but part of him still wanted to be near her anyway. Just in case.

It was his duty. 

The thought, however, took too long to appear in his mind, leaving Hubert with a lingering feeling that he knew far too well. 

"Very well."

He took one of her hands in both of his. A small hand hidden inside an iron gauntlet. How metaphorical, he mocked internally, even if part of him felt the sting of realization that she was truly going to battle without him. His chest tightened as his eyes slid back to hers. Violet eyes, widened in surprise. The Emperor pulled back to reveal Edelgard. 

"I wish you luck, Your Majesty," Hubert said, the words constricting his throat and yet he couldn't stop. "Please – no matter what happens – know that I will always be beside you. If you need me, just let me know and I will heed your call in a heartbeat."

It always felt like he didn't say enough, that there was still something left to be said. Still, Hubert didn't know what else to say when her eyes widened just a fraction more. She held his gaze for a moment longer and Hubert couldn't help but notice how close she was now. Soft features so rare to see, pink lips parted just a fraction, terribly inviting. 

She nodded, her face now back to her usual dutiful self as she slid her hand away from his.

"Thank you, Hubert," she whispered but the words rang hollow to Hubert's ears.

He kept his expression in check, betraying nothing as she walked away, black and red robes swaying the wind as the troops gathered around her, battalions standing ready as the troops' restlessness finally paid off.

It was time.

Hubert knew that much, but his mind wouldn't snap back to reality. His cold evaluation knew the thing that he refused to acknowledge. Useless, pitiful emotions wiggling in his chest. Tightening and fluttering, a mix of sensations that he couldn't accurately describe but some primal part of him knew. Hubert's mouth contorted with a grimace as he shook his head. There was still too much to do that didn't involve ruminating the emotions that chased him relentlessly. 

Hubert knew it. Somewhere within him, there was this spark of feelings that he couldn't hold back, not anymore. The memories of nights long ago in which he did nothing and the regrets that chased him ever since. Not that it mattered.

He would keep the feelings at bay for as long as he needed to. For her, so he could continue to serve her and fight for her and die for her. 

Every breath in his lungs belonged to her, every drop of blood in his veins. And, because of this, he would stay quiet.

No need to burden her.

Still, his mind lingered on memories of dark magic and nights long gone.

* * *

That day, the professor sided with them and died for them. Part of him didn't believe that she was gone. Neither did Edelgard. Yet he stayed politely quiet about it, always continuing his duty. Like he always had. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter has been longer than the previous one and I have no clue how long will the last one be. Also if there is a fe fic of mine that doesn't makes at least one meta reference to fe or the irl world, it aint mine. Anyway thanks for reading and for all the feedback and love <3


	5. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. I'm a disaster. That's all I have to say.

"You shouldn't trust her so soon."

Hubert, after five years of war, knew that every step Edelgard took could be nearly considered a security hazard. Especially when taking out assassins had become the norm rather than the exception in his daily life.

He tried to not let it bother him too much. Well, Hubert liked to believe he was even getting better at it.

Still, while facing Edelgard sitting in her office, Hubert couldn't help but feel uneasy over the fact that so many threats to her life were sprouting around him. Bloody battles and potential traitors, he had endured it all, but, right there, standing in front of her table, Hubert never felt smaller.

Regardless of how comfortable he was with Edelgard's daily threats, getting cozy with a former enemy was well off his limits. Even if this former enemy was Lysithea von Ordelia, the only person who knew the tip of a knife the same way Edelgard did.

For Edelgard, however, his "even if" was more like a "but".

"There is no need for worry, Hubert," she said, dismissing his thoughts with a wave. "If there is someone that truly believes in our cause as much as you and I, that person is Lysithea."

If that much was true, then that would beg the question as to why Lysithea was ready to blast their companions to bits all but a few days prior. Blast them with dark magic no less, the treacherous magic that lurked in between human and animal. Hubert's jaw tensed, yet he said nothing. In contrast, Edelgard was leaning on the chair, relaxed in front of the paperwork, as if it was nothing but small talk.

How different it was from the two previous weeks.

They had conquered Derdriu all but a week prior and there was still much to do, but it was nothing when compared to the stalemate of the previous year. Byleth's sudden arrival had done wonders even he couldn't deny. Even more, Claude's retreat had brought to them more than just Derdriu. 

Lysithea von Ordelia, the young girl with bright eyes and many scars – the telltale signs of the cruelty she had suffered – had surrendered and joined their ranks. White hair, so much like his Emperor and yet so different.

Perhaps it was his silence that gave away his position on the matter, his defensive stance clearing any doubts about how he felt. Still, inside the former archbishop's office, Edelgard's eyes found his, the ironclad Emperor unfazed by her subordinate's reluctance.

"I suppose it is only natural that you are wary," she said, as if the whole thing didn't bear the stamp of betrayal and "wary" wasn't too mild a word for him. "But understand this, Hubert. If nothing else, the future we are building is the same she wishes for. You are a practical man, so I believe you can see that our objectives converge."

Hubert tilted his head to the side, frowning deep in thought. He could bite back his remarks. People often said he had an iron control after all. And yet!

"I can see that much, Lady Edelgard. I can also easily see that, despite the five years of war that she had to pledge her allegiance to us, she only did when not doing it would mean death."

"Regardless, she is on our side now. I thought you were a man to look towards the future and not to brood over the past." 

"When said past involves fighting on the opposite side of a war, I believe I have the right to be wary. You are too important to expose yourself like that."

Edelgard pressed her lips together, calculating violet eyes appraising his response.

"It is unlike you to be so insistent on a small trifle like this."

Her way of telling him to quiet down and go back to his proper place. Hubert's jaw clenched as he continued slowly as if trying to find the right foothold.

"I merely worry for you, Lady Edelgard."

She quirked an eyebrow, shaking her head. "Yes, I suppose so." 

They fell in awkward silence. That was not how he imagined the conversation to go. Not that he expected that she would relent easily, but part of him hoped that she would pay heed to his warnings. Regardless, there wasn't much more that he could do. 

"If you will excuse me, Lady Edelgard."

For a moment, she glanced at him, her eyes full of emotions he couldn't describe. Nothing in her expression betrayed anything, but he could feel that something was out of place. Gut feeling, perhaps. Still, it didn't matter in the end.

Edelgard averted her eyes, waving a dismissal. Hubert bowed down in respect, turned on his heels and took his leave.

* * *

Hubert left the former Archbishop's office – now Edelgard's office – with a somber expression. The soldier and bishops moving around went quiet, their eyes were drawn to him. It was like the air suddenly became heavy and stifling. Anyone who was unfortunate enough to meet his eyes quieted in a second, as if his mere presence was as terrifying as a demonic beast on the battlefield.

With a swish of his cape, Hubert continued to walk. His reputation preceded him wherever he went, the gargoyle in human skin, a dark bishop like the villains in the legends. So be it. He'd play the part gladly if it meant that Edelgard's name would stay pristine.

However, instead of thinking about the stares, Hubert's mind was filled with thoughts of the small mage that had joined them. Lysithea von Ordelia. Since his academy days, he had tracked down information about the vast majority of the students. Lysithea's past, however, had been one of the hardest to lay his hands on. 

Information about her was scattered and confusing, contradictory even in the most basic of details such as physical appearance. Later, he understood why. Reporting back to Edelgard had been a struggle. Also, discovering that she wielded dark magic just as he did – that had been a surprise. The underlying question – _ how did she control it _– plagued his mind.

Still, he had half-expected Lysithea would join them as soon as Garreg Mach fell. Not five years later because of a fickle impulse of the professor.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as his sharp ears caught a whiff of a step. The servants and knights had loud steps, but assassins often would have light feet, even in disguise. Hubert's eyes darted back and he found the culprit. Not an assassin, however, but someone almost as unpredictable. 

Byleth, whose pale green hair was a giveaway, if not the odd garbs. She was heading to – _ oh _. Hubert quirked an eyebrow as he observed her going to a secluded hallway, a mere corner close to the Archbishop's former office. Where the statues of the four Saints still stood, a relic of a past that they didn't dare to touch.

Of course, they were there merely gathering dust. Not many went there – as far as he knew. But it didn't seem to be the case for Byleth, who was casually speaking to the bishop near the statues. Out of sheer curiosity, Hubert decided to follow them. 

Quiet like a cat stalking prey, Hubert walked over to the small corner. The statues of the Four Saints loomed over him, but the thin layer of dust speckled on them broke the spell of untouched beings they had. Byleth, strangely, was leaning over the Cichol statue, eyes cast upwards as if seeing someone that wasn't there. However, it only lasted a second as her eyes snapped to him, like a crossbow's string after the shot.

"Hubert." 

Her dull voice answered and Hubert had to stop for a moment to guarantee he had heard it properly. Sometimes, the Minister wasn't certain if the professor had said anything at all, as if he would forget her voice if he didn't listen close enough.

"In the flesh."

Byleth blinked slowly.

"What brings you here?"

Perhaps she was thinking of a quick quip on the lines of "you don't seem to be much of a believer", but said nothing. Hubert humored himself with thoughts such as these because he could never make his mind if Byleth's brain was full of nothing but tactics or if she had everything under control. 

Still, she was waiting for an answer.

"Mere curiosity. I saw you passing by, no more to it."

It was true, in a way. Of course, if Byleth only had been passing by the lake to fish, he wouldn't have bothered to follow. Seeing her paying respects to the Saints, however, now that was a strange sight.

If Byleth noticed the situation, she said nothing. Merely shrugged, eyes blank as no more words were spoken. It was strangely eerie how she managed to always put an end to any conversation without even trying. It irked him, prompting him to continue talking. He knew that too much talking always ended up in problems, but he couldn't help it.

"I take that you are paying respects to the statues."

"In a way," she said. In a surprising turn of events, Byleth continued. "The statues seem to value the renown of those who win their battles."

Hubert did not understand what exactly she was referring to, but, then again, not much of what Byleth said was easy to understand. As if full of surprises that day, she kept talking, her eyes unfocused – or perhaps looking at something beyond this plane of existence.

"Also, I believe I should ask for their favors while I still can. It may be useful."

The ominous remark loomed between them as if it was a heavy fog on the battlefield. Blinding him, making him unable to predict what would come next. Even knowing the danger, Hubert continued.

"What do you mean by that?" He chuckled, crossing his arms. It wasn't like he had any favors to ask for the Saints, not when all he wanted could only be achieved through flesh and blood and–

Byleth shrugged.

"I don't know. Who knows what can happen next in the battlefield."

Well, that was one pessimistic remark. 

Hubert merely raised an eyebrow, evading his gaze as he uncrossed his arms. It was strangely demoralizing to hear their best tactician talk like that – as if they would lose the favor of the Saints in battle soon enough – but he couldn't say that he was surprised. Not when Byleth had witnessed the might of the Immaculate One first hand.

His chest tightened, but Hubert said nothing more as he observed as Byleth's eyes darted to the statue of Cethleann then back to Cichol.

"You know, it may be useful to say things you want to say before it is too late."

An offhand comment. He knew that it could only be that, for Byleth could not know the plight of his shriveled heart. But, then again, Byleth couldn't know who the enemies would attack first, how strong an enemy was or which weapons they carry with a mere glance, but she did. He and Edelgard knew that Byleth couldn't have survived an attack from the Immaculate One yet she did. The professor had defied the impossible over and over. 

Would it be so impossible to accept that Byleth had seen right through him?

Worse, were his feelings so apparent?

Hubert clenched his jaw.

"Thank you for your time, professor." The title, said out of habit, now felt bitter. "I will leave you to your… prayers."

Byleth looked at him, eyes placid like a cow. If she had even a hint of a smirk on her face, then Hubert could rest easy for at least he would know that the quip was intentional. But no, Byleth looked the same she always had, pale green hair, pale green eyes, and a slight smile permanently glued on her face. Leaving him wondering if she was truly aiming for his unspoken feelings or if it was just his paranoia. 

She only nodded in response. 

Hubert did not run, not often, much less out of the battlefield. He did not run away from Byleth either. Even so, Hubert von Vestra, Minister of the Imperial Household and Mage General of the Adrestian Empire, was breathless when he got back to his office.

* * *

He wasn't very particular about eating alongside everyone else. In fact, Hubert was hardly particular about anything regarding food. However, perhaps it was the gloomy weather hovering over Garreg Mach, perhaps it was the interactions with Byleth he had early, but Hubert decided to have lunch with everyone else that day.

As soon as he got to the dining hall, however, he regretted that decision.

A servant dropped a plate. Hearing the loud sound, Hubert's eyes darted to its direction and the man, fumbling with the broken plate, seemed like he was about to faint, pale as he was. The clumsy man averted his eyes quickly, the dining hall just a bit quieter than it had been before.

Hubert huffed, straightening his back. With a swish of his black cape – time had taught him that black capes had the advantages of melting with the dark of the night and it also made him look presentable in most circumstances – Hubert continued walking.

"Hubert."

An imperative voice cut through the noise. Someone used to barking orders across the battlefield, but also capable of maintaining the tone level outside of it.

"Your Majesty."

She was sitting two tables away, pretty much alone except for…

"Hmph."

Hubert suppressed a grimace. Not many accompanied the Emperor for lunch. Byleth was her most common companion and some of the other Black Eagles could be seen alongside her from time to time. So, seeing Lysithea von Ordelia shoveling down some sort of sweet – ice cream? – did nothing to ease his nerves.

Even so, his Emperor called and he would obey. Like he always did.

With a stiff gait, he went straight for the table, avoiding the wary glances. The voices diminished wherever he passed. Edelgard and Lysithea were isolated from the rest, both seemingly already enjoying their dessert. The Emperor was sitting straight, slowly and politely eating her ice cream – Hubert couldn't help but suppress a little smile as he noticed how she was a bit too _ stiff _ as if trying to contain herself so that it would last longer – while Lysithea had no such qualms, enjoying her dessert as if it would run away from her.

Not that Hubert would doubt that she was some kind of Demonic Beast in the sweets' perspective.

"Have you had lunch yet?" Edelgard asked first and Hubert pondered for a second if she noticed the tenseness in his posture already. 

"No, not yet." Hubert took off one of his gloves, waiting for a servant to pass by. "I normally eat later than this."

For all that Edelgard knew, Hubert ate lunch by himself just after everyone was done and he also had dinner just before everyone else. In reality, most days Hubert just had lunch late enough so that it could be called dinner and didn't eat dinner at all, but Edelgard didn't need to know that.

He took off his second glove, leaving his hands bare. It was better than staining his gloves, but it still made him feel like a shorn sheep.

"Hmph."

A whiny scoff echoed from the other side of the table. Hubert's eyes darted to the direction of the sound, seeing Lysithea with her mouth half-full of ice cream. Sharp pink eyes – for a brief moment he wondered if they had always been pink – staring right back at him, not even having the decency of flinching as he glared back at her.

"Is there a problem, Lysithea?"

She gulped the ice cream down, quite the effort for such a petite girl, and pointed the spoon at him as if it was a small staff. 

"Never saw you without those. That's all."

Oh, but it surely didn't felt like it was all. Hubert knew better than to look for fights, but there was nothing wrong with simply pressing on to maintain his space. Part of him knew he was getting emotional, but the rest of him could find a reason to continue talking.

"Did you expect to see sharp talons dented from battles? Or perhaps dark fur matted with blood? I know all too well what people say about me," he pressed, keeping his posture straight and his stare right at her. "I have spread many of those rumors myself, I will have you know."

The spoons stopped. Hubert could feel the burning of Edelgard's gaze all over his skin, but his attention was focused solely on Lysithea. He wasn't doing anything wrong. He was just talking to her. 

"They said things even worse about you back in the Alliance, you know."

Edelgard's fingers tapped rhythmically on the table. A warning, for Hubert or for Lysithea? Perhaps for both, but it was hard to tell. Still, something deeper, faster, angrier inside of him prompted him to ask.

"What kind of things, Lysithea von Ordelia?"

Hubert was used to being the man of the hour among the circles of Enbarr, but he was curious as to what Derdriu had to say about him. A flare of emotion sparked in Lysithea's eyes, the brattiness of the girl! Like a petty child savoring an insipid comeback, she leaned in, setting the glass with the ice cream aside.

"They say you raise the dead, using your foul magic to force the soldiers to fight again until their bodies are nothing but dust."

His eyebrow twitched. Hubert hears Edelgard's shape intake of breath, he knew he should have stopped and yet he continued.

"Foul magic?" The disgust was palpable in his voice. "The same kind that you use?"

Lysithea smiled, but it was a revolting sight.

"I do it because I have something to believe in. Something to fight for."

_ What do you believe in? _

Hubert clenched his jaw. 

"Enough."

Edelgard's sharp voice cut through the tension in the air, enough so that Hubert's eyes snapped back to her. Tense lines on her face, brows furrowed, the glint in her eyes indicating nothing less than steely resolve. Just _ great. _ If Lysithea was intimidated then she didn't let it show. Regardless, Hubert knew that the next storm was for him and him alone.

"Let go of your childish disputes. We may have won over the Alliance recently, but there is still much to do."

Hubert stood there, motionless as Lysithea shrugged, almost as if indifferent. 

"I was already done anyway," she mumbled like a petulant child. As if all that had just happened was nothing at all, she waved goodbye to Edelgard, getting up. "I need to get going already, Edelgard. It was fun talking to you."

Edelgard's expression softened for a moment. 

"It was a pleasure for me as well, Lysithea. Hopefully, we will be able to do it again without being interrupted."

The sharp quip stung, but Hubert was used to worse than that. With that, Lysithea took her to leave, disappearing amidst the fading crowd of the dining hall. A few seconds passed, in which Edelgard patiently ate her ice cream and Hubert found himself unable to look at her. When the tension became unbearable, the Minister broke the silence.

"My apologies, my lady. It seems like I've overstepped."

"You most certainly did."

The cold shoulder hurt, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He remained silent as Edelgard continued impassively. Very well. It was a stalemate then. But it didn't last long, as Edelgard eventually finished her own ice cream.

"You don't have to like her, Hubert. I understand why you don't." 

Before Hubert could muster a rebuttal, Edelgard got up, settling her hand on his shoulder. The touch felt warm, way too warm as Hubert had to control himself to not pull away – too much, always too much with her – and, instead, he looked up, staring her back without hesitation.

Edelgard's lips were pursed, brows furrowed with thoughts that he couldn't decipher.

"But there is no need for such aversion. We both know that." Her tone softened near the end, enough to thaw the ice of his heart. Still, it lasted all but a moment as she pulled away from her hand. "We will talk later when you give me your report."

"As you wish," he whispered in response.

Edelgard walked away, leaving Hubert with an empty table and a sour mood. His eyes darted back to a servant, who probably had been trying to approach him the whole time.

"Lord Hubert," the young man stuttered. "Would you like anything?"

Hubert let out a grunt.

"Yes. Whatever gets here faster."

* * *

Amazing.

Hubert knew not every day was perfect. It was bound to exist days that were just terrible.

Still, that day must have set a new record. He still didn't had the opportunity to sink his talons on Lysithea von Ordelia, but now he could. Just pressing her for the answers he needed. Edelgard favored the young girl – and Hubert could understand why – so he wouldn't interfere more than what he deemed necessary.

Sneaking away after going about his afternoon duties quicker than usual, Hubert savored each step up until the library, stalking his prey. That was her usual spot. There were high odds of success. 

A smirk formed in his lips before he could stop it. He hardly felt pleasure scolding others – perhaps it fun to see them afraid or jumpy, but it wasn't pleasing _ because _ he was scolding them – but Lysithea von Ordelia would be interesting. She was fierce, however he knew all too well how ghosts plagued her mind and, well, many had called him a ghost.

He stood right on the library's door, flexing his fingers, just enjoying as the doorknob turned–

"Ah, Hubert, my boy!"

He got a pat on the back. One of those pats strong enough to not feel so friendly, but not strong enough to actually hurt. Hubert cringed.

"Hanneman."

Why was he surprised? He shouldn't have been. Still, the awkwardness of their last conversation lingered over him, but clearly not over Hanneman. Hubert turned slowly, his fingers lingering on the doorknob just a bit too long. Please let this just be a figment of his active imagination. 

"How rare it is to see you over here!"

No, it was most definitely Hanneman, in all his oblivious and gray glory. Hubert's jaw clenched, the tension spreading all the way to his legs as if even his own body just wanted to run.

"I am here indeed. Is it so absurd that I would be near the library?"

The Minister couldn't control his venom, not when he had things much more important to do. If it was anyone else, Hubert would just dismiss them by stating his business with Lysithea, but, knowing Hanneman, the man would just insist to accompany him. Which was just slightly worse than having to endure a conversation with Hanneman alone after such a long, tortuous and useless discussion about his father.

Hanneman raised his hands in surrender, apologetic with a big smile on his face.

"Oh, no, not at all. Just that I usually see you asking for the books to be delivered to your office. Well, Edelgard was here lately too, so I suppose it isn't that surprising–"

Oh, of course, Hanneman had tracked down every book in Garreg Mach. 

"Today I decided to come here myself. Do you have a problem with this?"

If Hubert wasn't Hubert von Vestra, a professional cold-blooded general, maybe he would have felt a tinge of guilt as Hanneman positively deflated, even his mustache comically curled downwards alongside the corners of his mouth.

"Oh, I see. I take that our prior conversation stills affects you."

At least he had some common sense to accompany all that babbling about Crests. 

"The subject of my father is no matter to me. What does matter is that I am in a hurry right now."

Hanneman's eyes darted back to his, staring back with a bit too much intensity for someone who looked as calm as a placid cow.

"I left that behind. The conversation was over once you walked away. And yet you carry it with you, my boy."

That much was enough to spark a flare of rage inside Hubert's heart.

"Yes, I carry it with me," he spoke slowly, each word dripping with venom. "That pathetic excuse for a man already caused too much trouble. How could I not?"

"Does he still trouble you?"

"It is none of your business."

Hubert shut down the conversation right there. If Hanneman was anyone else with at least the decency of knowing when they were beaten, then he would have backed off. Of course, the professor didn't. Instead, he shook his head, crossing arms in defiance. 

"Considering that it makes you treat me like this, it is, Hubert. I thought we had left it in a good note."

The professor still had the gall to sound hurt! A rational part of Hubert knew that maybe he truly was, but it didn't matter. Not right there, not like that. Hubert grunted.

"Do you know where Lysithea is?"

At least he might get something useful out of this conversation. Hanneman didn't seem to agree, his wounded expression quickly shifting to confusion and then anger, all in sequence.

"I haven't seen her, but that isn't the subject."

"Maybe not for you."

The venom coating his tongue was sour, but it must have been worse for Hanneman. Still, it lasted only a moment. The professor didn't know where she was, therefore Lysithea was most likely off doing her own thing. Hubert huffed. Pointless, useless, futile discussion about a dead man.

Hanneman was still shaking his head, perhaps stunned because of Hubert's coldness. Well, a shame.

"I must go, professor. Have a good day."

With those last words, Hubert left, with a hollow in his heart and a hollow in his throat thinking about the dead man. Once, as a child, he had feared the grudges of the dead. While he still hadn't gone back to those bad habits, Hubert had to admit that the ghost lingered, if not literally, looming over him.

* * *

"...And that concludes my report."

Hubert shifted on his weight, impassive. Professional, he would dare say. Edelgard, in contrast, had her arms crossed, tight expression betraying her tension. How strange. There was nothing in the reports that were particularly bothersome, perhaps she still wanted to speak about Lysithea–

"Hubert. I can't shake the feeling that you're keeping more secrets from me."

He shouldn't have, but Hubert relaxed a bit more. A beaten path. An implied question that he had carefully prepared for during years. An easy smile slipped in his face, almost like a doll being put together.

"I have told you before. There are secrets even I am unwilling to share."

She stared back at him, long and hard as if trying to pick him apart. Hubert had seen that stare many times before, when she first saw the professor after the Goddess's blessing and when she evaluated her assets in a battle, but it rarely was focused on him.

"I remember. However, I am the emperor now. If the Minister of the Imperial Household does not obey his orders, I have the right to execute him."

Venomous words, but they lacked the biting tone of a true threat. 

"I fear you have misunderstood me, Your Majesty. It is true that I am officially your minister, but such titles are of little significance to me." The smile in his voice faltered, not out of hesitation, but because of the brief memories of snow days and vows of devotion that flared before his eyes. "I serve you purely out of personal devotion. Perhaps there was a time when I served the Imperial line due to my duty as a member of House Vestra. But since you returned from the Kingdom...my loyalty has been to you alone."

He did not plan to say that much, but there was no taking back words. He couldn't pull them back and bury them where they belonged, alongside all other musty vulnerabilities that wouldn't – _ couldn't _– see the light of day. So he would stand by his words, lingering too close of the point of no return.

Edelgard blinked slowly, as if his words were enough to shatter the spell of the iron maiden she became, the emperor clad in armor that ravaged the battlefield. Unmoving, unbent and unshakeable. Hubert's smirk widened. Indeed a sight to behold. Especially as a flare of annoyance crossed her expression, her mouth twisted in a dainty sneer.

"I see. Then you are unwilling to obey my orders as emperor?" She inquired as if the implications of treason would be enough to stop him! A man that had murdered for her, continued to serve her through thick and thin, and would gladly die for her! Stopping because of treason? As if he wasn't a traitorous dog every day for her. 

"Correct. If you prefer to treat this formally, then charge me with a crime. I will gladly offer up my neck to the executioner."

The words were said in jest, but Hubert couldn't deny the hint of truth. And neither could Edelgard because she flinched, frowning and revealing for a moment the young girl who clung to her servant boy. The soft expression lasted little, but its insidious consequences remained.

"You know I would never do such a thing and that I pay no heed to the title you bear. It is your own presence and capabilities that I value so highly, Hubert. Titles are meaningless next to such things. Our families have no bearing on this matter," she hesitated for a brief moment. "nor does the Empire itself."

Not as Minister and Emperor but as lady and servant it was then. Very well. He could slip in the new role just as easily, keeping his lips curled up mechanically.

"In that case, Lady Edelgard, I ask you to turn a blind eye to my secrets. They are trifles, beneath your notice. Best I handle them alone. You should focus on the path ahead of you. The scarlet path I have carefully prepared. Whether that path is red with blood is not something you need trouble yourself over."

Mere trifles. Like trifles, they were there, bothering and always in his shadow, stalking and preying on him. Permanent trifles, but just trifles, not fit for her eyes. Best to try to change the subject, back to his more comfortable sins.

"As emperor, I'm obliged to accept that answer. However, as your friend, it irritates me to no end."

_ You know, it may be useful to say things you want to say before it is too late. _

Byleth's words rang in his ears and Hubert's smile faltered. Not as the minister, the Vestra, the general, the servant. No, none of it, as a friend. It was like an arrow aimed straight for his heart, the chink in his armor.

"You speak often of painting the path I walk, yet you do so in secret. I am the one you serve, but you refuse to let me in." She paused, or maybe she didn't, Hubert wasn't certain because everything seemed to slow down before his eyes. The arrow in his heart pierced cut deep, leaking feelings and emotions that he knew he couldn't contain.

Her expression faltered, lines of her face twisting and the dread, oh, but the dread he felt when he noticed that he couldn't tell! He couldn't tell what was behind her mask of flames because he wasn't even sure there was a mask at all in her bright eyes. 

"I trust you, Hubert, and that is precisely why I want to know everything, your secret hopes, and burdens." Her tone lowered, the words for him and him alone. "All of it. If I'm truly the center of your world, then I wish you would trust me as well as I trust you."

Oh, the request. Had it been anything else, perhaps Hubert would have steeled his mind and held his ground, but he couldn't, not with this arrow of ambiguous feelings that couldn't be more clear.

"... Very well. You have me beaten." It shouldn't 

have been so easy to say it. "I will tell you as much as I am able. From the assassins I've eliminated to the gold I've spent on bribes...to the identity of the one I love."

And so the word that had chased him for so long finally caught up to him. Slipped out of his tongue, just the feelings overflowing his heart. There was no outrunning it anymore, no, it was like a landslide, falling on top of him all at once. 

Edelgard's reaction, however, almost made it all worth it. With a gasp, whatever was left of the façade – was it there at all? – shattered into pieces. She stopped for a moment as if her brain had failed to comprehend the words he had uttered. Not that he could blame her. It wasn't like he understood it fully either. 

"Wait a moment. Are you saying...you have romantic feelings for someone?"

"Yes. That is the one secret I had particularly hoped to keep from you."

Once he had heard that everyone wished they could tell the truth about everything they were, but that the masquerade they lived in would never allow this pleasure to all. Regardless, Hubert could see the veracity of it. The truth surfaced with no resistance. How ironic.

Edelgard didn't share the droll amusement, however.

"Well, that's utter nonsense! You can't possibly keep something so fascinating from me!" She thundered, a voice fit for a commander. "Who is it?"

Ah, but it hurt like a flame, burning without a care, no smell of burnt flesh or smoke out of his mouth to warn her about the heart she set ablaze.

It should have been harder to gesture towards her. Nevertheless, he simply extended his arm towards her. Perhaps it was the effects of the long day, Hanneman, Lysithea, Byleth, all of them. Maybe it was true that people inherently wanted to confess the truth.

Hubert could hear the blood running in his ears and his own heart pounding in his chest, unrelenting, unbearable, maddening drum roll leading up to the climax. 

"It is you, Lady Edelgard. Did you ever really doubt?"

It was like a dam had burst. For him and for her, him with the rush of feelings his subconscious – an old, slow, deep domain that didn't belong to him – had long accepted but his mind refused to accept, for her… he couldn't tell. His sharp mind failed him as she stared back at him, all eyes and dainty surprise, her mouth a stunned "o".

And then she laughed.

"Heh, Hubert…" The slight pause to catch her breath did not go unnoticed. "You never cease to surprise me."

Hubert couldn't help but laugh. In fact, he had barely registered her answer. And what came after as well.

"I…" she trailed off, but then there was that shift, from friend to Emperor and everything in between. "I need a moment to think about this."

* * *

Coffee. 

Hubert needed coffee black, no sugar, no cream, no honey. Just coffee, pure and simple, to get him going before he fell asleep on his face. Yes, he needed it.

The moment that Edelgard spoke of became much more than that. 

It had already been two weeks and the vague sense of victory of the win over the Alliance was already fading as the campaign to Faerghus gained momentum. Of course, the doubt should've been even worse to Hubert, considering the circumstances surrounding–

Irrelevant.

With a grunt, he took the mug to his lips, letting the hot steam and the rich smell take him out of his thoughts. Sitting in his office, away from everyone, he could find some peace to enjoy coffee by himself.

Yes, that was what he needed, just one restrained moment for himself until–

_ Knock, knock, knock. _

Until three quick knocks on his door took him out of his thoughts.

"Hubert? It's me, Lysithea."

Great.

Placing the mug back on the table, he stared back at it, daring to wonder if he shouldn't just pretend no one was there. How ironic that before that _ event, _Hubert had tried to chase her around, threaten her and demand to know what she truly was fighting for. 

Still, ever since that _ day _, his mood had soured towards the young girl, so he had kept a distant eye on her, careful and wary. More than once, he had heard her shrieks as she mistook Hubert for a ghost, which had served to lower his opinion of her even more. The dead can't hold grudges, only the living. 

Still, if he had no bone to pick with her, then there was no point in avoiding her. If nothing else, Lysithea was in Edelgard's good graces and Hubert would always trust the Emperor. The man got up, keeping his pose straight, and opened the door, revealing the young girl with white hair and pink eyes, her arms behind her back.

"Lysithea."

Little more than an insipid comment, pointing out how uncommon her presence was. 

"What brings you here?"

The girl tapped a foot on the floor, sighing. Almost as awkward as he was? Perhaps. He couldn't be certain but it seemed like that was the case.

"I spoke to Edelgard." The mention of her name stung, but Hubert did not react, all too used to keeping whatever meekness he had left hidden in the cavities of his wilted heart. Lysithea shifted her weight but her eyes were locked on his, unflinching but uneasy. "I just wanted to apologize for… Well, everything." 

Hubert raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. Everything could mean many things. 

"Could you be more specific?"

The girl huffed, her cheeks puffing. The image brought him back years, when a younger Edelgard poked her tongue at the meek boy who didn't want to play in the snow. It took a few moments for him to notice that his lips had curled up involuntarily. 

Lysithea, in contrast, was still struggling with words.

"I… I was too harsh with you. It was really my bad."

"I answered in kind. It is my fault as much as it is yours." 

The admission caught her off-guard. She opened and closed her mouth, dumbfounded at the new development. Not that he could blame her. His reputation preceded him, just like she had so rudely pointed out before. Hubert averted his eyes, his mind unfocused as he continued.

"The more I think about it, the more this fight of ours is a fruitless endeavor." Words, words of admission, words he didn't use often but that felt right before this little girl who suffered so much and continued to fight. "I apologize for locking horns with you back there."

Silence reigned again. A few seconds passed. Hubert resigned himself to the new situation. She would excuse herself and they would be distant but amicable comrades, it was fair enough–

"May I enter?"

Oh?

"Very well."

He stepped aside and Lysithea took the offer gladly, walking quickly as if there was little time. Hubert warily followed her with his eyes, noticing for the first time a heavy tome in her hands. Well, it was not unusual for Lysithea to do such things, he supposed. She took a seat and he got back to his previous chair, picking up the lukewarm coffee mug. Clicking his tongue, he still chugged it down all the same.

When he placed the mug aside, Lysithea looked queasy like she'd just witnessing him drinking a virgin's blood like so many of the rumors suggested.

"I don't understand how you can drink it like that."

Hubert chuckled. Perhaps if she had said such thing a week ago, he would have been offended.

"I have no idea how you can live with so much sugar in your body either."

Her eyes darted back to his as she pouted.

"I think… We can agree to disagree." She shook her head, small fingers clutching the book in her hands. "Still, that was not why I came here today."

Hubert merely nodded, straightening his back in the chair.

"You know about my two Crests, right?"

Ah, this subject. It was bound to happen. His lips curled up, smiling like a sphynx.

"How could I know about such a thing?"

An unknown emotion flared behind her eyes, old, slow, deep feelings of rage and rebellious streaks flaring. 

"Don't patronize me." Her face twisted in a dainty sneer. "If Edelgard knows, then you most certainly do as well. I bet you were the one who told her about it."

"What makes you think so?"

"I'm not guessing here, Hubert. I'm certain." 

He was cornered. If she wouldn't relent, then he could change his approach.

"Very well. If you are so certain about it, then, pray tell, how did I get my hands in this information? I would enjoy having such secretive and reliable sources."

He gestured openly, fully aware that she couldn't know everything about the snakes that lived beneath the earth. Edelgard could have told her, but she couldn't have possibly said everything.

Lysithea furrowed her brows, looking smaller than usual with her cheeks puffed. Settling her book on the table, she grunted.

"It doesn't matter, I suppose. I just wanted to confirm something."

"And that was?"

"Edelgard is… just like me, isn't she?"

Memories, memories that came like a flash. Days of pain, days of hurting, days of running off in despair. As quickly as they came, they faded. Hubert's heart froze, not in shock, but as cold blood ran his veins. If Lysithea didn't know, then that meant that Edelgard omitted it from her. And that secret wasn't his to share. As if reading his mind, she quickly amended her phrase.

"She left it implied last time we spoke and she knows about the blood reconstruction surgery."

Good point, but it wouldn't make him budge. Hubert merely let the silence be his ally. He rested his hands on his knee, unbent. Still, he could say one thing.

"Edelgard is the only one that can give you this answer."

She scoffed and Hubert tensed, expecting the stalemate to continue. Instead of another acid rebuttal, Lysithea merely sighed.

"That's fine, I guess."

Hubert exhaled, relaxing his hands. He did not expect her to relent so easily, but he wasn't about to complain.

"It's just…"

Or perhaps he was celebrating too early.

"I have very little time left, Hubert. Edelgard can't have much more than I do either." The thought made a shiver run up his spine, but Hubert's eyes never left Lysithea as she spoke, flexing her fingers. "I am fighting for this. For my life. Just like her."

Her eyes darted back to his. Unflinching and fiery, not unlike the woman before him. 

"I assume you know about the nature of dark magic?"

"Of course," Hubert acquiesced, nodding in response, already knowing her conclusion.

Biting her bottom lip, her palm cast a small sphere of dark energy, as if the procedure was like second nature to her. It soon faded, but the chilling effect lingered.

"When people spoke of you in Derdriu, I feared that…"

"That I was misguided regarding dark magic?"

One would expect that the young girl would stutter, take back her words, but Lysithea was made of steel and miasma. 

"Yes."

_ Are you? _

The question lingered in the air and Hubert almost wished he had more coffee. 

"Once, five years ago, I am fairly sure I got too close to the abyss. I l allowed my wrath to take over and, although I don't regret my actions…" he trailed off, his mind snapping back to that wrench who didn't even spare some final words for his son. "I suppose you were almost right. But I can say I have my own focus."

Silence. It was fitting indeed. He had said too much. But it didn't last as long as he had expected.

"Thank you, Hubert. Sometimes we all need to find our light in the dark in order to grow." Gentle, gentle words said with a gentle face, someone who had seen suffering and could acknowledge someone else's pain.

Hubert smiled, not a smirk of sinister mysteries, but a genuine smile. She got up, ready to take her leave so they could both move on with their day. Until he remembered something else.

"Lysithea." She turned on her heels, curious eyes focused on him. "Could you say sorry to Professor Hanneman for me? I will properly talk to him when I can, but I believe he deserves an apology."

She nodded with a smile, now much more amicable than before. "I'm on it."

Hubert got up as well. There was still much to do, papers to approve and troops to monitor, not counting the Vestra Sorcery–

"Hubert?" 

Lysithea's voice rang from the door.

"I forgot to mention, but Edelgard asked for your presence later. Just after dinner, in her chambers."

Hubert's blood froze in his veins.

* * *

_ Knock, knock, knock. _

"Enter. The door is unlocked."

Hubert took in a deep breath and opened the door to her chambers. His eyes scanned the room, standing in the doorway politely. The room was spacious but not as luxurious as it would be befitting of an Emperor. Not like they could afford much luxury considering the circumstances of war they lived in, but it was mostly just Edelgard's will. 

A large bed on the corner and the deep red drawers were all that would betray the room as hers. And, as his eyes wandered, he soon found her.

She had placed a table near the window, where the moonlight cast shadows over her ivory skin and pale hair. A beautiful red gown, hugging near her curves – and his eyes wandered up again, but now Hubert could feel his cheeks warming. And on the table…

"Chess?" Hubert said, drawing her attention. 

Her eyes snapped to his, sharp amethyst eyes shining bright with intelligence. A small smile graced her lips and Hubert cursed his weakness, his heart beating faster just by looking at her.

"Indeed. Will you join me?"

Not trusting his tongue to not blurt out endless praise, Hubert merely nodded, closing the door behind him. He clenched his jaw. Traitorous heart, beating fast because of a smile! But how could he not do so? Not when it had been so long since they last had been alone together like this, not as Minister and Emperor, but as…

As what? As nothing. As nothing because he didn't know since she never granted him an answer.

The thought fell on him like lightning and the emotions that followed washed over him, reverberating like thunder. A cold hand gripped his heart. He walked up to her, settling in the chair.

Back straight, his eyes scanned the board. All pieces in their places, merely waiting for the two of them. Bishops, rooks, knights, all ready to take arms for their king. He could understand the feeling.

"Wine?"

His eyes darted back to her. Now, settled on the table, a bottle of wine and two glasses. He chuckled, polite but letting a hint of playfulness slip.

"I wouldn't recommend drinking right now, my lady. It may cloud your mind and you wouldn't want to play against me like that."

Edelgard smiled back, playing along with his quip.

"Perhaps. But I admit that the game is simply an excuse," she said, eyes glistening with some unknown emotion. "After all, we have much to discuss, don't we? Things we left…"

She trailed off and Hubert knew what awaited him, his fingers clutching the fabric of his pants. 

"...Unsaid." 

That was one way of putting it, he thought with bitterness flooding his system. Hubert shifted in place.

"Very well. I have the white pieces, my lady."

She smirked back at him, but the previously relaxed feeling between them had faded. Now they were competing and the look between them had shifted, like two gladiators meeting in the pit, knowing that only one of them would survive.

He opened with the leftmost pawn, moving two squares forward. An irregular opening for an irregular game, one for nights like that, when they both going out of their usual routine. Catching on what he was trying to do, Edelgard merely proceeded with a common move, moving her leftmost knight towards the center. 

Well, now that was bothersome, but, fair enough, he did play a risky gambit, therefore–

"Tell me, Hubert," Edelgard mumbled, her voice bringing his attention back to her. Her hand toyed with the bottle of wine ( a well-aged Dagdan wine, right from Mt. Violdrake ), pouring for both of them. "Last time we spoke alone like this, I believe you were going to say something."

A vague phrase, but that conveyed her intention all too well. Hubert froze, staring back at her. Gesturing towards the board, Edelgard's expression was neutral like a marble statue, urging him back to the game. 

"Your turn."

He moved a pawn – the one in front of the leftmost bishop – two spaces forward. As soon as he did, his mind snapped back at him, thinking about adequate moves. What had been done couldn't be undone, however, and, at that moment, Hubert couldn't care less as well, for all that was in his mind was Edelgard. How her hair swayed as she tilted her head to the side, so magnificent–

Enough.

She glanced back at the board and the at him, violet eyes calculating like a cat ready to pounce. Very well. Perhaps he should accept her prior offer. He wasn't getting through that without some alcohol in his system. His fingers played with the half-full glass before taking a sip. Good wine indeed. Intense flavor, lingering in his mouth. A shame it wasn't enough to make his next words bearable.

"As I said before, I will tell as much as I'm able. Nevertheless, be patient with me, my lady. There are a few things I need to clarify first." 

She moved the pawn in front of her king two squares forward. Not a word was spoken, but he understood her meaning. _ Continue _. He pressed his lips together before mirroring her move, halting her advance.

"When they sent you to the Kingdom, I, at the tender age of ten, planned my devious escape." Memories of blood, ravines, and darkness loomed over him, shadows of broken innocence. "The details escape me now. You were always the one with the better memory between the two of us. Regardless, I ran away from Enbarr up until Fort Merceus and, by the end of the three days, I had killed some of my father's men."

Hubert paused. It was his turn, wasn't it? He moved the pawn in front of the queen one square before continuing, not daring to see the expression in Edelgard's face, fearing the inevitable pity. Hah. As if he deserved that, he! 

"If I remembered how many, I would tell you, my lady. Nevertheless, my indifference towards others' lives ran rampant in my blood even then. When they dragged me back screaming and kicking, my father deemed it was time to start my training."

"And so that's when you started."

Edelgard didn't need to complete the phrase for him to know what she meant. _ When you started poisoning, torturing, bribing, and everything in between. _ A flare of boldness took over him, his eyes snapped back to her. The violet of her bordered a purple shade in the low light, much like the sky at dawn, when the night just took a moment too long to leave.

"Does this surprise you, my lady?"

She rested her cheek on her hand, the side ponytail brushing her shoulder. In contrast to her apparently relaxed position, her eyes were fixated on his, as if seeing something that wasn't there, but should have been. Hubert could almost convince himself that she was only planning her next move, if not for the heavy exhale she let out. 

"Yes, but I suppose it shouldn't. You were always too skilled, even when we were little more than children."

She moved her rightmost knight towards the center, lingering a moment too long before setting the piece down with a _ thud _. At the same time, Hubert felt like that piece, waiting to see where her hands would take him. Her voice took him out of his thoughts.

"Continue."

Hubert shifted in place, taking a sip of wine that did nothing to help his parched throat. Moved a pawn, barely noticing which one, his mind focused on fumbling with memories, which failed to conjure a cohesive image.

"Ever since, Lady Edelgard, I've lost count of the lives I've taken and of the ways I've dirtied my hands. It is simply too many, in and out of the battlefield, under your orders or against them."

The next thing he knew, she'd moved her bishop, checking his king. No words were spoken as Hubert took a deep breath, moving in his knight in order to protect his piece.

"If you truly wish for the specifics," he drawled, the already even tone of his voice unbearably monotone. "Then I could talk about the gold I spent bribing minor nobles for their cooperation back in the early days of the war."

Edelgard moved one of her knights to capture his pawn. When he had moved it to that position? With a grunt, he stared down at the black and white of the board, avoiding Edelgard's eyes as he scoffed, a choked sound, a parody of a droll laugh.

"Perhaps about how I've slit the throats of fanatics you specifically told me to spare? How I betrayed and betrayed again of my own volition?"

Ah, there it was. The true problem, the real reason why the idea of offering his neck to the executioner was realistic. It was laughable how much he had failed to be the perfect monster inside a man's skin, when he had hopelessly fallen in love with his mistress, when he had proven again and again that he would disobey her if it helped her cause. 

"Or maybe of the poisoned gifts I've sent when I deemed someone too much of a threat to keep alive?"

Unworthy and undeserving, but greedy enough to want her all the same. Biting back his shame, Hubert spoke up again, relying on the formality of their positions to put distance between them. 

"Do you still wish me to continue, Your Majesty?" 

"There is no need." Her pause lasted a bit too long, but Hubert, coward as he was, kept his eyes on the board. "But it is your turn."

The game progressed and neither of them spoke a word. In the vague stream of consciousness Hubert was experiencing, he could see the imprecisions and mistakes, the many times the game could have ended for both. Nevertheless, it continued.

Until she moved her queen forward, capturing one of his pieces (which one it was? He could barely keep up anymore) and finishing the game. Checkmate. 

So that was it.

His throat was parched and there was no wine that could help it. It was just the dryness of his shriveled heart. Edelgard's hands rested on her knees, back straight as she looked right at him. He felt naked, unsafe, vulnerable as if someone had stripped him of his clothes and of his pride.

His jaw tense, Hubert couldn't help but notice that he had been his own undoing.

A foolish heart, too small to fit anyone but her, and even then he knew it was a snug fit, one that would never allow him to be what she needed in someone. 

Everything that he had become was already hers. What could he have that he hadn't possibly given her? His lies and his _ love _– oh, but the word still burned – it was hers and for her. Hubert couldn't offer her anything and he knew it all too well.

"If you will excuse me, my lady," he mumbled, lowering his head as there were no words to excuse his foolishness. He was halfway up when a voice cut through the silence.

"No." A cold hand seized his heart. "Stay here, Hubert. I still have something to say."

He would never dare to disobey her, not in a trifling matter such as his feelings. Still, oh, how much he desired to run away. Hubert dropped himself back on the chair, his legs giving up under him. He could not go, no, for it was a minor, trivial, foolish–

A hand cupped his cheek. His eyes darted back up, recoiling from the touch like a dog kicked one too many times. But, just like a dog that had once trusted, how much he desired for the hand to come back once he saw the look of betrayal in Edelgard's eyes. Her hand pulled back. 

"I always knew much of it, you know. The decisions you took, I mean."

Hubert saw her lips moving, he heard her words and yet he couldn't make sense of it. He was panicking, he knew it, this was not acceptable behavior by any terms. Still, when he didn't answer, Edelgard's jaw tensed, her brows furrowing.

"I never approved of it. But I knew that you had the skill and the will to do what had to be done. I knew that there would be times you would do things on your own, for you are my emissary in all matters, so I have always secretly granted you the power of decision. You have my trust, forever and always, Hubert. Even though must ask for the same trust back, for you to tell me about the decisions you take so we can reach a proper conclusion."

Edelgard took a deep breath, making that so specific expression that she had once she knew that there was more to say but couldn't find words for it. As eloquent as she was, Hubert almost laughed at how their minds stalled in the same matter.

"Still. I did not know," she paused and he felt the dread running up his spine. "Everything. I thought about what you said before regarding your sentiments towards me. And I…"

She trailed off.

Hubert knew that he was described as having "a heart of ice" many times, but he never felt so cold. It was like his insides had frozen, his heartbeat fast enough to burst a vein as if to spare him of the mortification of her next words. However, because of the way she was standing right in front of him, he couldn't flee.

"What I mean is…"

Hubert could work from afar. There was still much to do back in Enbarr and he could help to maintain the city stable. Like that he wouldn't need to face her if she didn't wish for him anymore.

"I know that this is a delicate situation."

Edelgard was trying to control the damage. Of course. Even if Hubert had enough self-discipline to maintain his foolish sentiments under control – or at least he had to convince himself that he could tame those feelings right there when it was all out in the open – Edelgard would find the situation awkward and pathetic.

She grunted, taking him out of the realm of his mind. Her hands were balled in fists near her chest, her teeth bare as she seemed to growl, seeking words that continued to elude her. For a moment, the two of them were stuck in their own worlds. No words were spoken.

Her fists relaxed, her hands dropping to the sides.

"I hope you will pardon my foolishness," she mumbled, he could hear the sharp intake of breath, "But this has gone for too long."

She retreated. Pulling back, she sat down on the chair again, pouring wine for her. Now that Hubert could literally flee if he wished, he found himself not wanting to do so. Ha. The idea seemed laughable right then, once he didn't felt cornered. Pathetic reaction. 

"You can drink, you know."

Her voice reached his ears, but he could barely recognize the words. He took a few seconds to answer.

"No, no," he mumbled, waving his hand in vague gestures. "I don't think it would be adequate for me to drink right now."

He'd already had enough, even if he could scarcely remember having more than three sips. Her jaw tensed, her eyes darting from the bottle and back to him.

"There is no need to restrain yourself."

"It would be better if I weren't inebriated for this conversation," Hubert remarked, even if he wasn't sure of his own answer. Perhaps it would be for the best if he did like Caspar or the other soldiers and drank until he passed out. The hangover sounded like a blessing compared to her inevitable next words.

Her brows furrowed as she flexed her fingers, trying to grasp something that wasn't there. The thought was almost laughable. What, trying to get back her loyal manservant who had nothing in his heart but duty? Who didn't have such futile feelings that left the relationship between them in disarray? For a moment, Hubert cursed his own weakness, wishing for it as well. It would be easier, so much easier if he had managed to do the same he'd done for so many years and kept his distance, forgetting if not outright burying the foolish ideas of warm days in the sun and shared solitude under the moon. 

"Oh, come on, you didn't drink enough to–" A pause. "Doesn't matter, I suppose. Do as you wish."

A moment of silence passed and Hubert's apprehensiveness seemed to have settled in a plateau. And so it was that. Whatever punishment or rejection, he would have to handle it, it was just how it was, no more and yet no less.

His jaw clenched. Edelgard continued to drink, certainly to calm herself considering what she about to do. After an eternity, she spoke up again.

"Do you mind indulging me for a second?"

Hubert raised an eyebrow. She gesticulated vaguely, not making sense.

"Nothing but an exercise of your imagination. Or ours, I suppose," she amended, shaking her head. Edelgard started toying with the black queen piece, her fingers grazing over the crown. "You are allowed to leave whenever you want."

"Very well."

Placing his hands on his knees, Hubert tensed in the chair, waiting for her to continue. The side ponytail moved along as she tilted her head to the side, a faint tinge of pink in her cheeks, which he could only assume to a consequence of the alcohol. 

"Imagine if you could forget all of this. Empires and Kingdoms, war and glory. All of it."

Hubert tilted his head to the side, treading on thin ice. Her expression was vague, lips parted in a sigh, eyes lost in some unfocused point. Rosy cheeks, but furrowed brows. Unsure of what to do, he scoffed a laugh.

"My lady, I could never do such a thing, we both know that." A pause, she didn't answer and he felt compelled to continue, out of awkwardness. "I would never forget my duty."

"That is exactly the problem, Hubert," she bit back, eyes snapping at him with the fire of righteousness she hid within. But, if Hubert were to be intimidated so easily or if she were to get enraged because of his evasiveness, then their relationship would have crumbled years prior. Edelgard took a deep breath, closing her eyes, shaking her head.

"Then try it. Try to forget for one moment. Forget that we have known each other for years. Clean the slate. See our situation with new eyes."

Not the minister, not the servant, not even the general or the friend. Then who? Hubert shifted on his weight, caught in a position out of the book moves.

"What do you wish to achieve with this, my lady?"

Her gaze drifted over his form, in a way that he knew that she was appraising him, observing him. 

"You're avoiding the subject." A simple phrase, nothing accusatory in her tone, only pointing out the obvious. But Hubert didn't need her accusation to feel like he was being accused. 

Still, silence had always been his best weapon. 

He folded his hands on his lap, unmoving. Part of him thought about going out the door as she had said, but Hubert wanted to see it to the end. Edelgard had proposed a challenge – even if he didn't understand it – and she always made him want to rise to the occasion and prove himself. It was part of what made her a great leader. A smile formed on his lips before he could restrain it.

Of course, she did not share the sentiment. Edelgard's eyes pierced through him, but it wasn't the Emperor who was looking at him. No, not the Emperor nor the lady, not the commandant nor the friend. Who was staring at him intently, stripping him with the eyes? She observed his every move.

"Very well," he said, words tumbling out of his mouth as if they clawed their way out of his throat. "Then what do you wish me to see?"

"What am I seeing?" She hissed, voice husky. "This is the question you should be asking."

_ I see the woman I love before my eyes. _

The confession got stuck in his throat. Still, that was the only answer he could think. When they were stripped of their titles, their duties, even of their history, that was all that was left to him. Bubbling in his throat, Hubert controlled a droll laugh. Of course he couldn't think of anything else.

His head drooped low in defeat as if even his body had given up on sustaining him. 

"My lady, if I may," he slurred, eyes on his lap. "Please just tell what you plan. I don't understand your reasons."

He heard the creak of the chair on the floor. The click of heels. One, two, three steps. Her hand on his shoulder, light and comforting. Duty demanded that he pulled back, that he composed himself, that he found the strength to take his leave and shove his stupidity back to the realm it came.

Nevertheless, when she gripped his shoulder, Edelgard was his beacon of strength. Perhaps possessed by the same spirit that had taken over him just a week prior, Hubert straightened his back. His eyes drifted back to hers.

Violet, violent violet eyes that urged him to keep going. A fire that he so much admired. Her cheeks, tinged pink. Her lips parted in a sigh. Her fingers tightened on his shoulder, grounding him.

"Tell me." Her voice felt hazy as if echoed. "If you forget all that there is between us, duty and empires and wars, what is left, Hubert?"

"I already gave you this answer." 

"Say it again then."

Hubert pressed his forehead on the table. Pointless, pointless sulking, useless if not for the pressure in his head balancing out the inevitable headache that he was going to have afterward. 

"Edelgard…" he trailed off, his voice breaking in the last syllable. A moment passed. Her hand left his shoulder, but his relief lasted little as her fingers carded through the short hair in the back of his head. 

Wait.

He raised his head slowly, like a rabbit poking out of its den in search of predators. Her lips were curled up in half-smile, as she tilted her head to the side. Edelgard brought her free hand to his forehead, rubbing the spot that he had pressed to the table, probably trying to calm the angry red mark. Swiped his bangs to the side and, if he wasn't feeling bare before, now he was, looking at her with two wide eyes that didn't quite know what to do. Or where to look, for that matter.

"Say it again."

Her whisper reached his ears soft like a bell. Still, he knew what she wanted, but what could all of that possibly mean? Hubert only would understand if he tried. Possessed by the same calm that had invaded his mind a week prior, he stared back at her, mustering the courage to keep going.

"If that's what you want to hear it again, my lady, I will never back down on what I said." For better or for worse, Hubert stood his ground, looking for any signs of distaste or pity in her eyes. He didn't find any. "You are the one I love, Edelgard. This is something that no Empire, no war and no duty will ever change."

Edelgard blinked. And she laughed. A laugh like a bell, a true laugh, odd enough to make him just stay there like a fool. Was one time not enough? 

"I see." Her laugh quieted and all that was left was a vague smile and eyes staring at an unfocused point on the horizon. "That's what I wanted to hear."

Silence reigned again. That was, if not for Hubert's blood rushing in his ears, his heartbeat careening. Her fingers were still in the back of his head, her other hand was now hovering near his shoulder, not touching but almost.

A few seconds passed, Edelgard took in a deep breath and, at this point, Hubert wasn't sure of what he was supposed to expect. Hope dared to sprout in his heart, no more than a bud, but that much was more than he had ever allowed himself to have.

"I admit that I truly didn't expect this. I suppose I should've, but, as the years go by, it seems like I know you less and less."

Edelgard exhaled, her chest heaving with the effort of digging feelings long buried. Hubert bit his bottom lip, not daring to speculate further on what Edelgard was thinking. No, he would have to wait as her eyes darted from side to side, scrambling to give form to her thoughts. 

"I have once heard our comrades mention how much we are 'inscrutable', as they put it. Not truly aloof, but with this distance between us and them. These last few days made it so much clearer how foolish I was to think that we were immune to it."

Her fingers massaged his scalp, her other hand settled on his shoulder. Still, cautiousness was demanded. He couldn't let this foolish hope take over him, not when it was all up in the air.

Edelgard let out a short laugh, little more than a huff.

"And to think that I summoned you here to talk about Lysithea."

That much was enough to draw a chuckle out of him.

"I spoke to her already," he mumbled, fidgeting with his fingers as he didn't quite know what to do with his hands. "I believe that we are in good terms now. At least on my part."

"Good."

The subject died again. Hubert knew that it was a good moment to cut his losses and take his leave. He would maintain his relationship with her more or less intact and Edelgard didn't seem to be willing to send him away either. Which was all that mattered in the end. Staying by her side. Still, was it really all there was to it?

His line of thought got cut off as he felt fingers trailing up his neck. A shiver ran up his spine. Her hand cupped his cheek.

"I suppose I owe you an explanation for my questioning before," she whispered, leaning in slightly. Her hair, still bound in the side ponytail, brushed his shoulder. " I wanted to guarantee that your feelings weren't from the minister to the emperor. I will trust your words."

Ah, but that look in her eyes, glinting with emotions defying description, that made him understand. Not as Emperor and Minister, not as friends. A woman and a man, no more and yet no less.

His eyes darted to her lips. Parted, rosy and inviting. She was looking at him intently too, observing his every move. This dance, neither of them knew the steps, but they move along anyway.

He dared to close his eyes and part his lips, yielding and ready to give whatever she wanted to take. He heard her sigh, felt her hot breath, the smell of wine. Edelgard pressed her lips to his. Chaste, no more than the soft yielding pressure.

She pulled back, he opened his eyes, ready to apologize (For what?) but she was already leaning back again, bolder, moving her lips against his. They found each other's rhythm, her hands on him, his hands gripping his own thighs.

She was aggressive, setting a pace, sucking on his bottom lip. At the same time, he let out a sigh, melting as his feelings simmered into an incoherent puddle. Her thumb caressing his cheekbone. A gasp, a moan and they were soon breathless, both taken aback by their own boldness.

When she pulled back again, Hubert was dizzy, the shared taste of alcohol between them, everything, everything at once crashing down on him. She had kissed him. Him. 

He dared to look up again. Edelgard was just as breathless as he was, a disoriented look in her face as though she had just witnessed a miracle. A rush of euphoria ran through his skin. Laughter bubbled deep in his chest, but it came out in bursts, sobbing laughter of a man that had just witnessed a miracle.

Truly, truly a miracle.

Alas, it was much harder to put an end to things than to start them. Especially when he didn't want them to end. A brief mad thought passed by his mind of kissing her until the night turned into day, until he was drunk in her. 

His hands stayed clamped to his thighs when he spoke up again.

"It's getting late." Insipid, but he had no will to muster a better excuse. If she asked for his presence, Hubert knew he couldn't resist. Especially now that he knew how her lips felt.

"Yes."

And an equally tasteless response, the answer of someone who wanted the same thing as he did, but knew the same thing that he did: as much as the fantasy of forgetting their duties was tempting, they couldn't indulge it for long.

She offered him a hand. Hubert took it, getting up, but instead of letting go, he indulged in it, daring to hold her hand. And she smiled in response, giving him a gentle squeeze as they walked back to the door.

A glimpse of intimacy until his hand found to the doorknob. Hesitated. Looked back at her. Her face was still flushed, the pink of her lips and cheeks apparent even in the low light. Did he dare?

Before Hubert could overthink himself to madness, he leaned in, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Goodnight, Edelgard."

Stunned for a moment, she blinked rapidly as he opened the door with a smirk. Still, quick-thinker as she was, her lips soon curled up in a smile that made his heart jump.

"Goodnight, Hubert."

He closed the door. In the hallway, Hubert stood stunned for a few seconds, could've been even minutes and he wouldn't have noticed.

It was all a daze, the lingering warmth still tingling on his lips. Oh, but he would cherish it, cherish every moment of it. He had been granted a blessing, one that he could never take for granted. Yes, that was enough. 

As he finally pulled himself together, Hubert wandered across the lonely halls. An occasional guard or servant stiffened as he passed, but, for the first time in so long, he noticed that their eyes lingered for a bit too long. Wondering, wondering, daring to wonder what the gruesome gargoyle in human skin was up to? What did the fearsome Marquis do so that he had this odd, skewed expression? Was it a smile, truly a smile? Yes, yes, it was! 

Hubert could almost see the way it would harm his reputation, but, oh, he couldn't care less. Not when he was back to his room and he could see in the mirror, the softness of his expression, the glint of hope in his eyes, even the slight smile that he couldn't contain. Edelgard had done that to him, like she always had, taking him out of the shell of his own making.

She had stolen the breath of lungs. Every drop of his blood boiled. Enbarr could burn to ashes and Hubert wouldn't notice, too lost in the giddiness of his reciprocated feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the chapters just get longer... Hopefully, this is as enjoyable for you all as it is for me. Also if someone can catch the fe5 reference, props to you

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I have a twitter too! @X64Ysa if you want to see me yell about Edelbert.
> 
> Kudos/Comments/Feedback are always appreciated!


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